Mistletoe
by FleurHartz
Summary: A fun little R/H, H/G story that's set around and on Christmas. Could be the first of the series if ya'll like it. R/R please and tell me what you think.
1. Default Chapter Title

Hey again! I know it's been awhile, I've been busy with basketball and school (don't even get me started on algebra). But here's another R/H, H/G fic that'll put you in the Christmas-y mood. It could have a sequel if ya'll like it, tell me WHEN YOU REVIEW. (that was kind of a hit-you-over-the-head clue that you should review this story) All right, enough of my incessant ramblings. May the story begin…  
  
Mistletoe  
  
It was nearly Christmas at Hogwarts, and the Gryffindor common room was abuzz with pre-holiday excitement. Harry and Ron were playing a very exciting chess game and drinking iced pumpkin juice that Fred and George had brought up. Hermione, however, was in her usual spot doing what she usually did-studying. She sat in the window seat, practically buried beneath her stack of Potions note for the enormous test that Snape had cruelly decided to give them the next day, the day before Christmas break. Ron looked up at her, letting out an exasperated sigh.  
"All right, Hermione, I know this is hard for you, but you're going to have to trust me on this one. Step…away…from…the…homework." Ron said, grinning.  
Harry, who was in an incredibly good mood, burst out laughing.  
Hermione looked over her Potions book.  
"First of all, Harry, it wasn't THAT funny. Second of all, do you realize how important every test you take this year is, what with the O.W.L.'s and-"  
"Okay, Hermione, you give me no choice." Ron launched a chess piece at her.  
She blocked it with her Potions book,, sighing, and slamming the book shut.  
"Fine. It's time for a little Yuletide cheer for Hermione Granger. It's not like I don't know everything in that bloody book." She looked a lot more cheerful as she joined Ron on the couch.  
Just then, Ginny came through the portrait hole, and saw the three of them sitting over on the couches.  
"Ooh, pumpkin juice. I'm parched." She sat down next to Hermione, grabbing a glass.  
Harry suddenly felt a twinge of disappointment. The first thought that popped into his head was, "There's plenty of room next to me." Quickly shaking off this thought about none other than Ron's little sister, Harry stared very determinedly down at the chess board..  
Ron and Hermione were both laughing very heartily about something and Ginny was watching them with a very frustrated expression. Harry thought this was a little strange, but quickly decided to stop looking at Ginny. He had been feeling really weird around her lately. It was as if he had suddenly realized that she wasn't a little kid anymore. She was nearly his age, and he had started to fearfully realize that he was thinking about her more and more. He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by very girly giggling by Hermione. This was a little uncharacteristic.  
"No, Ron, I'm NOT going to tell you what I got you. You're just going to have to wait!" She laughed, going to get up but accidentally knocking over their glasses of pumpkin juice all over both of them in her sudden laughing fit.   
They took one look at each other, both practically drenched and started laughing even harder.  
"Y-You'd better go change!" Hermione gasped, tears streaming down her face she was laughing so hard.  
"You shouldn't! I like that drowned rat look!" Ron said, grabbing his aching sides.  
Hermione giggled again, turning and going up to the girl's dormitories.  
Ron told Harry and Ginny he'd be right back through his spastic fits of laughter, and then raced off to the boy's dormitories.  
Harry laughed, looking at Ginny.  
"Guess the holiday's makes people act a little crazy."  
"I guess." Ginny said thoughtfully, talking very quietly and embarrassed like she usually did around Harry, then suddenly exploding.  
"Those two make me so MAD sometimes!" She slammed her goblet down so hard on the table that Harry jumped back, his eyes wide.  
"W-What?" He sputtered.  
She talked in a furious whisper.  
"Ron and Hermione, of course! It's so obvious she likes him, and believe me, Ron is crazy about her! You should've seen him this summer! Every morning, he'd run downstairs, "Letter from Hermione yet? Er……or Harry?" It would be kind of funny if it didn't make me so mad! Wouldn't they just be so perfect together? Why won't they just TELL each other?" She finished, so angry she was nearly spitting.  
Harry didn't reply right away. He had to think about this a bit. Ron and Hermione. His two best friends. No, he would be lying if he said he had never noticed that they seemed to like each other, but it was kind of strange to think about. In fact, it was really strange to think about. But he could see Ginny's point. They would make a pretty cute couple. And who was he to stand in the way of that? He wanted them happy, and they would of course make each other happy. That said, they drove each other absolutely mad sometimes, but, as he thought about it, he wondered if that was just some strange way they showed affection. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more he thought they would make a really good couple.  
"I know what you're saying, Ginny. They would make a good couple, even if it would be a little strange seeing them, you know, together."  
Her mouth broke into a wide smile and Harry felt his heart thump wildly.  
"Okay, Harry, I've been thinking. And I think if they're not going to tell each other how they feel, we're just going to have to….help them out a bit.." Ginny's smile suddenly turned very mischievous.  
"And what did you have in mind?" Harry asked.  
Ginny rummaged around her bag, and pulled a small satchel. Raising her eyebrows mysteriously, she very discreetly pulled out its contents. A little bunch of mistletoe tied together with a red silk bow.   
"Oh, I get it." Harry couldn't help but smile himself.  
"Yes. And if you think about it, it wouldn't be that hard. There's a perfect spot right before you go through the portrait hole. We could just hang it up on Christmas Eve, and send them on a little errand together, and….." Ginny's voice trailed off as she looked very pleased with herself.  
"But we'd have to do it at exactly the right time or it wouldn't work. About a million things could go wrong…." Harry was thinking this plan, although a promising one, had a very probable failure.  
"Oh, Harry, that's what makes it fun! And if it doesn't work, we'll just be right back where we started, right? Where's your Christmas spirit?"  
"Fine. Let's do it." Harry agreed, and they continued to quietly plan how everything would turn out exactly right.   
Suddenly, Hermione came down the stairs. It looked as though she had not only changed but fixed her hair.   
"Hey, you two. What are you talking about?" Hermione sat down next to Harry, looking at them suspiciously.  
They had gone absolutely silent when she had walked in, and neither were very good at keeping straight faces.  
"Oh, we were just talking about-about how much we're looking forward to Christmas." Ginny said lamely, shooting Harry a 'help me out, here' look.  
"Yes, and how-er-hungry we are. Want to go down to dinner, Ginny?"  
"Er-yes! That sounds great, I'm starved. Care to join us, Hermione?"  
"Actually, I'll just wait for Ron." She said, her cheeks flushing slightly.  
Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, and left the Gryffindor common room practically unable to conceal their excitement.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
The next few days flew by. Harry and Ginny spent a few minutes each night going over their plan and making sure that they both knew what to do. Harry had to admit that it was great spending time with her. Every time they shared a laugh or a smile, Harry felt his heart flutter strangely. And Ginny was obviously feeling the same thing. It was odd….but wonderful. But neither of them had time to focus on their relationship. They were too busy worrying about Ron and Hermione.  
Finally, it was Christmas Eve. Harry and Ginny were both nervous and excited. No one really noticed their scheming because they thought it was just pre-holiday excitement like everyone else. Ron and Hermione were totally oblivious that anything was about to happen, but that just made it more fun. The day went by rather quickly and uninterestingly. The only exciting moment was when Harry, Ron and, of course, Hermione discovered they had all passed the Potions test with flying colors.  
"Maybe Snape has caught a bit of the holiday spirit." Harry suggested, looking disbelievingly down at his score.  
They were all silent for a moment, then all said at the exact same moment:  
"Not possible."   
Laughing, the three left Potions in very high spirits. But Harry most of all. It was almost time to put he and Ginny's plan into action.  
It was finally nightfall and the crowd was slowly dwindling down in the Gryffindor common room. Finally, after Hermione left for the girl dorms, Ron went to the boy's side. And not long after that, Harry and Ginny were the only people left in the common room.   
"Do you have it?" Harry asked, whispering even though they were the only ones in there.  
"Of course. Right here." Ginny pulled out the satchel, smiling.  
She took out the mistletoe, and she and Harry went over to the exact spot they had decided on a long time ago, Ginny pulled over a stool that was in front of an armchair and put it right under the designated spot.  
"Well, here goes. Do you want to put it up or should I?" Ginny asked.  
"Go ahead." Harry told her, and she excitedly clambered onto the stool.  
Taking out a nail that she had put in her robes, she pushed it through the ribbon, hanging the mistletoe exactly where they had wanted it to go.  
"We did it!" Ginny shrieked, starting to get down but losing her balance.  
She went flying off the stool, and Harry caught her instinctively. Suddenly, they both realized what an awkward position they were in. Harry had both his arms around Ginny's waist, and she had her arms around his shoulders. When she looked up, she realized their faces were about an inch apart. They both looked up and saw the mistletoe dangling over their heads.  
"Well, according to tradition, this is where we kiss." Harry said nervously.  
"Right." Ginny said, her hands shaking.  
And at practically the exact moment, they both leaned in and kissed each other. And it felt so right, so perfect. When the kiss ended, there was a very long, awkward silence that was interrupted by the clock suddenly chiming, telling both of them it was midnight.  
The sudden noise caused both of them to jump away from each other.  
Harry looked at Ginny, waiting for her to say something. But she looked as if she was in a daze. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and mouth hung open in wonder.  
"What?" He asked, laughing at her expression.  
"Nothing…it's just that…I can't believe that just happened. I feel like I'm dreaming or something."  
Harry didn't say anything. He was a little in shock of what had just happened as well.  
"Well---Merry Christmas, Harry!" Ginny suddenly said, turning on her heel and dashing off to the girl's dormitories.  
Harry walked off to his room, feeling very happy but a little worried. What did all this mean? Would their plan work the next day? And, most importantly, should he tell Ron?  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry woke up the following morning, and it took him a moment to remember what had happened last night. His whole body felt pleasantly warm and he couldn't help but smile.   
"Morning, Harry. Opened your presents yet?" He heard a sleepy Ron ask from the bed next to his.  
Harry felt a little guilty. He always told Ron everything, but he couldn't exactly tell him he had kissed his little sister last night.  
"Er-no, Ron, I just woke up."  
"Well, I can't wait to see mine." Ron said, sounding like he was a little kid again, as he excitedly pulled his pile of presents towards him.  
Harry did the same, receiving the usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley, a scarf covered with broomsticks and Gryffindor lions from Hermione, mismatched socks from Dobby, a book from Ron that detailed every Quidditch match that had ever taken place, and food from Hagrid that Harry had learned was best to avoid. The Dursleys sent no present, and Harry could really care less. Suddenly, he saw one more small package with all the others. He opened it curiously. Inside was a silver ring that had the simple design of a crown on it. A note was enclosed. To Harry-I bought this a long time ago with you in mind, but never had the right opportunity to give it to you. Well, now I do. It's to remind you that you'll always be the king of my heart. Much Love, Ginny.  
Harry quickly tucked the note and ring into a sock from Dobby, smiling and feeling his face grow a little hot.  
"Blimey, Harry, quite a hall this year, eh?" Ron asked, still marveling at his present from Hermione.  
It was a very nice broomstick, one that Ron could never afford. Hermione must have saved up ages for it. Sure, it was just a Firebolt and there were nicer brooms to be had, but Ron looked at it as if it was made from pure gold. Harry had given him the new updated Chudley Cannons shirt and poster, and he seemed to like those very much as well.  
A few more Gryffindors than usual had stayed for Christmas this year. There was really no reason, it had just worked out that way. So Hermione had decided not to come up to the boy's dorms like she did when it was practically deserted on Christmas.  
She woke up relatively early, and opened her presents from Ron and Harry. Harry's was very nice, it was a leather book bag so she could replace her old one that had ripped about three thousand times. Ron's was even nicer though. To her anyway. It was a moving picture that Harry had taken of herself and Ron at the Weasley's that summer in a very nice silver frame. It showed her and Ron both leaning slightly together with identical huge smiles at a professional Chudley Cannons game the three had gone to that summer. Ron was wearing his Chudley Cannons hat and sweatshirt and looked very cute, she thought to herself. Sighing slightly, she wondered if this picture meant anything or if she was just trying to make a big romantic sign out of everything. I need to get a grip. Parvati and Lavender act like this, not me. She told herself mentally, putting her picture inside the book bag and leaving them on her bed. Changing into jeans and a blue sweater, she put on her black robes and decided to go see if Ron and Harry had come down to the common room. As she was walking down the staircase, she heard someone call out her name. Turning around, she saw Ginny standing behind her, breathing very fast.  
'Merry Christmas, Gin!" Hermione told her, trying to read her expression.  
"You too," Ginny said distractedly, "Listen, Hermione, can we talk-in private?"  
"Er-of course. Let's go up to my room." Hermione led Ginny up to her dorm, where Parvati and Lavender were doing each other's hair and giggling.  
They were the only other people in there.   
"Here, let's go in the bathroom. That way they won't hear us." Hermione whispered to Ginny, dying to know what she had to tell her.  
They walked into the lavishly decorated bathroom and sat down on the silver tiled floor.  
"All right. What's wrong?" Hermione asked her, as Ginny sat down, still looking a little flushed.  
"Okay, you are never going to believe this. Hermione, Harry kissed me last night." Ginny said this very quickly and stared down at her feet.  
"Ginny! That's great! Wait-how?" Hermione was smiling genuinely but looked beyond surprised.  
"I still can't believe it! We were down in the common room when no one else was---and it just kind of happened. I don't know what to do! I don't know what to say to him! To RON! Ron would kill Harry right after he was through with me! And I don't know how Harry's going to act after all this! Does he think it was a mistake? Does he really like me? Hermione, you've got to help me!" Ginny looked desperately at her.  
Hermione fell silent. She had no idea what advice to give.  
"Maybe you could tell Ron over the summer, give him sometime to cool down and get used to the idea-"  
"THIS SUMMER! Hermione, it's only Christmas! If me and Harry were, you know, a couple, you don't think I should tell Ron until summer!!" Ginny was getting close to hysterical.  
"Calm down, Ginny. I see your point. Okay, I don't what to do about Ron. But with Harry-just see how he acts. You've liked him for, oh, I don't even know how long, and this is probably kind of new to him. Don't come on too strong, but definitely show him that you're interested. He wouldn't have kissed you if he didn't like you, Ginny. And I think that's great that he did. Now let's go down to the common room and see if they're down there." Hermione said, getting up.  
Ginny looked a little shaky, but excited. Following Hermione down to the common room, they saw Harry and Ron sitting on one of the couches. Ron looked up at Hermione with a huge grin, and Harry didn't even look at Ginny. He was looking determinedly out the window. But Ginny saw something that made her heart thump wildly. Harry was wearing the ring. Sitting down next to him nonchalantly, she asked him if he was ready to pull off the plan while Ron and Hermione were talking.  
He turned to look at her. Those eyes...! Ginny couldn't help thinking with a slight shiver.   
"Thanks for the ring, Ginny." He smiled widely at her.  
"Y-You're welcome." She stammered stupidly.  
"Let's do the plan now. The common room's getting really crowded, and we've got to do it before everyone goes down to breakfast." Harry suggested.  
Ginny saw that Fred and George were in the common room, and smiled when she thought about how they would never let Ron forget it if he did kiss Hermione.  
"Okay, Harry, go for it." Ginny suggested.  
Harry turned to his two friends.  
"Ron, Hermione, could you two go get something for me?"  
They both looked at him, puzzled.  
"I want a Quidditch book from the library, but Madam Pince has really been on my case lately, so I would really appreciate it if you two went and got it. It's called Flying Hints and Taking Hits-A Book for the Seeker."  
Harry knew that this had come out a little lame, but they didn't seem to think much of it.  
"Sure, Harry." Hermione said, shrugging.  
"Whatever." Ron laughed, giving Harry an odd look.  
They both got up together, and started to walk towards the portrait hole. Ginny looked nervously at Harry. Practically every Gryffindor was in the common room now. The moment they stepped under the mistletoe, Ginny knew it was her chance.  
"Hey, Ron, look up!" She said very loudly.  
Most of the talking around the common room ceased. Everyone looked towards Ron and it started dawning on people what he and Hermione were standing under.  
"That is sooo sweet!" Lavender shrieked, grabbing Seamus' hand, who was looking at Ron with a sympathetic but amused smile.  
Parvati started giggling madly. Fred and George looked at each other with wide, malicious grins, and started to yell things like "Go for it!" Now even more people were paying attention. Even sixth and seventh years were cheering them on, the boys all amused for Ron and all the girls thinking it was the sweetest thing they had ever seen. Everyone who knew Ron and Hermione were cheering and yelling. The first and second years looked a little confused, but decided to cheer along with everyone else.   
Ron looked at Hermione, horrified. She had a matching expression on her quickly paling face. Both had the sudden feeling to just make a run for it. But no one would let them leave now. Fred and George were nearly doubled over laughing as they watched them. Harry and Ginny smiled at each other. The plan was working. Now it was just up to Ron and Hermione.  
Ron finally smiled, although it was a very embarrassed smile. Hermione grinned as well, her cheeks flushed bright red by now. Ron's ears were quickly turning the same color as his hair.   
"This wasn't exactly how I pictured it." Ron said quietly, laughing.  
"No, me neither." Hermione laughed as well, as everyone started to grow silent, trying to catch their conversation.  
"Oh, well. Here goes nothing." Ron smiled, looking happier and happier.  
Hermione felt her whole body go warm. Was this a dream? Was this really happening? As Ron started to lean towards her, it was as if all the laughing and cheering and everyone else in the world slowly faded away. They met each other with a sweet, quick kiss that only lasted for a few seconds. But it was the greatest few seconds of either's life. When their lips parted, the whole common room erupted with cheers. Ron and Hermione grinned awkwardly at everyone, and then practically tore out of the common room.   
"That's the Weasleys for you! Always get the girl!" Fred yelled, throwing his arm around Angelina.  
"Or guy." Ginny whispered to Harry, with a shy smile.  
Harry took her hand. Everyone was starting to leave for breakfast.  
"Well, the plan worked and I got a girlfriend in the process." Harry told her quietly and happily. They were silent for a moment.  
The common room was empty except for them now. Ginny looked up at the sprig of mistletoe.  
"I'll never get rid of that thing." She smiled, deciding to get it down later and keep it forever.  
When she looked back at Harry, he kissed her again.  
'Who needs it?" He laughed, squeezing her hand.  
"Let's go get some breakfast." She suggested, trying to keep from exploding with happiness.  
"Good idea. Oh, and-Merry Christmas, Ginny." Harry and Ginny walked through the portrait hole, both thinking what a wonderful Christmas it had been-and this was only the beginning. Who knew what the rest of the day would hold?  
  
  
(A/N-The end…..of this part anyway! I'm pretty sure I'll write a sequel, it seems to make sense to continue this story. What do you think? Tell me in your review. Did you like it? It was so much fun to write, I love R/H, H/G. Happy December everybody!)  
  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

DISCLAIMERS:_: This is fanfiction. No profit involved.. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven" . No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended._   
_RATING: PG13 - Violence and Language  
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra and the others too  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Thank you to KellyA for her beta skills and comments. Kristen provided the name of Chaucer for Ezra's horse. I stole the names of the other horses from Eleanor T. Quotes taken from __Le Mariage de Figaro by_ _Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (sorry, I don't know French and my choice of text may not be the best...). More quotes from "The Nightingale" by _Hans Christian Andersen_  
SUMMARY: Sequel to Down the Amazon and The Ledger, also available here at www.fanfiction.net. I would strongly suggest that you read them first.  
SPOILERS: can't think of any at this moment.. except for Amazon and Ledger... READ 'EM FIRST!_

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Redbird

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By NotTasha... co-owner

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Part 1:

Vin walked through the bat-wing doors of the Redbird and was surprised to find it virtually empty. The saloon had been busy every day since it opened. Of course, tonight was Sunday and for a change, the citizens and visitors to Four Corners seemed to have taken the Day of Rest to heart and had gone to their homes or temporary residences, leaving the streets and businesses empty.

Vin took a moment to look around the small tavern. It was remarkable how different it looked from a month ago. First of all, it was clean. The windows had been washed, the floors swept, years of grime wiped away -- the room was lighter and brighter. Cobwebs older than JD had been removed, along with a barrel-load of (what Ezra deemed) a deplorable collection of unaesthetic articles. The stench from the privy no longer wafted through the building at inappropriate hours. And the new portrait had been installed. 

Ezra had found a student fresh out of Art College. Geoffrey (formally Jeff) Gayle had been heading west to seek adventure. His plan was to paint pictures of the West before it all went away. Vin had chuckled at that thought, wondering what the boy thought would happen. The tracker couldn't imagine things changing too significantly out here. Did the boy actually think the buffalo would simply _'go away'_? That the cowboy would become extinct? That the lifestyle of the Indians would fade? That folks would populate this country from coast to coast? Sure, things were changing, but the boy was exaggerating things.

Standish had convinced the boy to paint a portrait of one of Buck's lady-friends -- a rather buxom maiden named Viola. Ezra said the exercise would be good practice for the lad and Buck thought it might lower the artist's voice a key or two. In the portrait, the lovely Viola Van Wagner lay luxuriously across a divan in a forest green dress, holding a little red finch on her finger. Beside her, the window was half-open. It wasn't clear if the bird had been a wild thing that had flown in, or if it was a pet in danger of escaping. The portrait had turned out very well and had become the centerpiece of the tavern.

The men who helped finance the business had all been expecting the saloon to be christened "The Standish Tavern" when it finally reopened, so they were somewhat surprised when the sign went up, dubbing the business "The Redbird Saloon". Ezra claimed that it was because he was rather fond of the portrait, but Vin figured that the gambler didn't want to be reminded of his earlier failure.

The tracker strode across the saloon to Ezra's table. The gambler's red jacket stood out in the near-empty room like a campfire in the darkness. Standish and the bartender, Joe, were the only current inhabitants. The gambler glanced up as Vin approached and set aside the letter he was writing.

"Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with a smile, "Is there anything I could get for you?" he signaled toward Joe to let him know that his services would be needed. Standish had hired the bartender away from his previous position and had managed to employ Inez as well. Inez had to be promised a management position. When Joe had been approached with the offer, the bartender simply took off his apron, folded it and left it behind the bar before following Standish out of his previous employer's establishment.

"I was just stoppin' by 'fore I went out to patrol," Tanner said. "But I 'spect I could use a beer if you're buyin'. Don't get that kinda offer very often from ya."

Joe appeared beside the table in a minute with the mug.

"Thank you, Mr. Rutledge," Ezra said as the bartender departed. "You may as well head on home. It seems that business is somewhat wanting tonight."

"Ya want me to close up?" Joe asked, as he wiped his hands on a bar-rag. "Still gotta take the last of those glasses to the restaurant to get 'em washed and I gotta wipe down the tables and all."

"No need. I believe I will be capable of doing so myself. Perhaps I shall be able to find a few _'buying'_ patrons yet tonight." Standish glanced at Vin as he spoke those words, and then returned his gaze to Joe. "Goodnight, sir, and thank you."

Joe nodded and tossed the towel behind the bar before he high-tailed it out. 

"Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Tanner," Ezra apologized. "Business, you know."

Vin grinned. "How's it been goin'? We gettin' any of those profits you were talkin' about yet?"

Ezra sighed and said, "If business continues as it has tonight, it will be some time yet before we are so rewarded."

"Yeah, but it's been bustlin' plenty good up 'til now."

Ezra nodded and smiled. "Indeed. But even so, the first profits shall be returned to the business. There are improvements yet to consider. I've been courting our neighbor, the incomparable Mrs. DeMarco -- tryin' to convince her that it is high time that she retired to a life of leisure and sold her dry goods store. Once I have the deed in hand, our expansion project can begin."

"Yeah, and is she buyin' any of your bull?"

Ezra cocked his head and said wistfully, "Unfortunately, Mrs. DeMarco's idea of a _'life of leisure'_ is much more plush than what I had envisioned for her. We have yet to arrive at a satisfactory solution. In any case, it'll be some time before we have the cash in hand to allow for the transaction," Ezra said as he straightened the pages of his letter. "And some time yet before I'm able to provide my investors with a return."

"I 'spect I can wait a bit," Tanner said, and then added, "Who ya writin' to?" He felt a pang of jealousy. It seemed that whenever Ezra had free time and wasn't gambling in some manner or doing his best to irritate Chris (a form of gambling in itself) -- he was either reading or writing. Vin still struggled with the simplest words, but at least he was getting better.

"I'm sending a note to my sainted mother," Ezra said, placing a hand over his heart. "I felt she might enjoy hearing of her darlin' boy's success."

"Ya want to gloat, ya mean," Vin said.

Ezra nodded. "Yes, the gloating is always an enjoyable pastime."

"What's the money for?" Vin asked, nodding toward the envelope, where he could see several bills just peeking out.

Ezra shrugged. "A debt that required answering." He looked up when he saw the look on Vin's face and said, "Not to worry, Mr. Tanner. The money has not come from the Redbird and will not affect any of your forthcoming profits. The last few nights at the poker table have been refreshingly successful. With this, I shall be able to pay a long-standing and somewhat troubling debt to my mother."

Vin's frown deepened. He remembered the conversation he had heard when Maude visited the town nearly two months ago. He had overheard Ezra and his mother one night, as they walked past his wagon. Ezra had started off by boasting about the money that he'd been able to earn for her when he was a child -- involved in cons from his infancy onward. Maude had countered with the cost of raising him. The outcome was that Ezra owed her $400. He had paid her $150 that night. Vin was pretty certain that the bills visible in the envelope constituted the remaining $250. 

"Why should ya owe her anythin'?" Vin said into his beer. He looked up and met Ezra's gaze. He could almost see the wheels turning behind those green eyes. Damn, Vin thought, seeing the realization come to Ezra's face. Vin knew that he'd said too much -- had revealed everything. That cardsharp is just too damn perceptive. 

"You," Ezra said and paused as he put an arm protectively over the envelope. "You...eavesdropped on a private conversation?" His voice lowered to a growl. "Mr. Tanner, I do realize that you have spent much of your life among savages, but I would have hoped that the _SIMPLEST_ common courtesies would have been observed when in pleasant society." 

"Ezra!" Vin said raising his hands. "Damn it, Ezra! I didn't mean to. Hell, I didn't _want_ to hear none of it. It was an accident. I didn't have nowhere to go. Honest!"

Ezra looked away, and Vin could see a flush of embarrassment on the man's face. 

"Honest, Ez!" Vin pleaded. 

Ezra turned back to him slowly. "You were in the wagon, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Vin admitted.

"You could've coughed or somethin'," Ezra said softly, realizing that there was nothing he could do about this now. "It would've been the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Gawd, Ezra, you know I ain't no gentleman. I just wanted you two to go away. I was hopin' that you'd just keep on walkin' and there'd be no need for anyone ta have ta know nothin' 'bout where I was." Vin sighed. "By the time I realized you weren't gonna move on, it was too late."

"How much did you hear?" Ezra asked resignedly.

"Enough to know that ya don't owe her a dime," Vin shook his head sharply. "How could ya let her talk to ya like that? She's got no right to charge ya for every meal ya ever ate, for payin' off folks so that ya could stay with 'em."

Ezra stood quickly, his chair almost toppling backward. He caught the chair without looking at it and set it back on its feet as he walked away from the table. At the bar, he reached for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He winced as he stretched his left arm to complete this task. The arm had been recently broken and was still mending. According to Nathan, it should be in a sling. Of course, Ezra wore the sling while either Nathan or Josiah were around. Both would henpeck him if they didn't see it in place. But, as soon as either of them left the room, the sling would go back into his pocket. He would manage to get it back in place before he was spotted without it.

"I'm sorry, Ez, but it's true," Vin said joining Ezra at the bar. "She got no right to list stuff like that. I mean, that's what a Ma's supposed to do, ain't it? A mom takes care of her kids, no questions asked. She don't ask to be paid back. That's just wrong."

Ezra poured himself a shot and fingered the glass for a moment. "You didn't hear the entire conversation," he explained quietly. "You must understand that I forced her hand. She was concerned that my current lifestyle didn't allow for any appreciable gains. She was, in fact, worried about me. She asked me to travel with her to Paris. She had an idea for a profitable con and could use my assistance. I refused, sayin' that I had other obligations. She pressed onward, offering to pay my way. I replied sayin' that this was unnecessary. I always have been able to pay my own way and would travel to Paris on my own when I was able. I cited the fact that I'd paid my own way all of my life, including my childhood. She was simply setting me straight. She was only looking out for my well being."

Standish downed the shot and then looked toward Vin with a smile. "So you see, it was a misunderstanding. I overreacted perhaps, but now that it's come to this point, I cannot back down. Once this debt is paid, then she can no longer state that I'm unable to pay my own way in life."

There was a time when Vin was jealous of Ezra regarding his mother. The tracker would have done anything to be able to see his own mother just once more, and for a time had been rather disgusted with the way Ezra spoke of Maude. The gambler should have felt lucky that he still had a mother! But recently, Vin seriously wondered exactly who the lucky one really was. Okay, so she was _'looking out for his well-being_,' but Vin had seen the look on Ezra's face that night... had known how much that conversation had hurt him.

"The thing is, " Ezra continued, "Paris did sound rather enticing. I've always wanted to visit the City of Light. There's so much history...so much art and culture...so much of what's lacking in my..." He gestured vaguely toward the window. "...current circumstance. My mother's offer was, perhaps, the last chance I'd have to go there."

Vin didn't know what city was full of lights, but had heard about Paris before. It was somewhere in Europe -- an awful long way from here. "You'll get a chance someday, Ez. I mean, if that's a place ya really want ta go."

"At times I wish that I hadn't brushed aside her offer so quickly, for I truly wish to go. If I hadn't been so quick to dismiss it, I'd be on my way to France at this very moment and have an extra $400 in my wallet instead of in my mother's pocketbook." 

"But you probably wouldn't have the Redbird," Vin reminded.

Era smiled and nodded. "Yes," he said, "The Redbird." He glanced around the room, a proud look on his face, until his gaze returned to the letter on the table. "But Paris...perhaps if I apologized most profusely, the offer would remain and I could still go as her escort. My mother does tend to find herself in somewhat sticky situations from time to time. Perhaps she might want my assistance in the extrication process. There may still be time to express my regret for what I'd said."

"You're not the one who should be apologizing," Vin said, taking a drink from his mug so that he'd have something to do.

Ezra shrugged and said, "You don't know my mother. Apology is not exactly a term she's familiar with."

"You'd be gone a long time if ya went, Ez," Vin said thoughtfully, trying to figure out how long it would take to get to a seaport and wondering how many days...weeks...months?...a trip across the ocean would last. And how long does someone stay in Paris? After traveling for that long, it'd have to be a fairly long spell. "It'd be a year maybe before ya came back, I figgure."

Ezra said nothing for a moment, running his finger along the lip of the glass. He smiled inwardly...a year, yes, perhaps... if he did return. Why did Vin assume that he would return at all? "Yes," he said after a moment, "a long time, indeed." 

"We'd miss ya," Vin said, and then added. "or somethin' like that."

Ezra glanced over at the tracker, seeing Tanner staring straight ahead. 

Nothing more was said for several minutes as the two men leaned against the bar. Tanner drank his beer while Standish poured another shot and sipped at it. Realizing that the conversation had come to an end, Vin stepped away from the bar and stated that he was going to have to start his patrol.

"Very well, Mr. Tanner." 

"Night, Ez," Tanner said as he strode to the door.

"Good night, Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied, and then before Vin could let the doors close, "Mr. Tanner?"

"Yeah, Ez?"

"Thank you," Ezra said as he turned. "I suspect that I'd miss you too."

Vin smiled and let the doors shut.

****

Part 2:

Ezra put the last few words to the letter, signing it floridly before he folded the papers and carefully inserted the letter into the envelope with the money. Well, he thought as he completed the task, I have finished the letter and have had no further patrons... I suppose it's time to call it a night. 

The doors to the saloon swung open, letting him know that people still patronized saloons late on Sundays. He glanced idly at his watch that was open on the table. The time was well after midnight... it was Monday already. He stood to greet the coming guests. His welcoming smile dropped as he watched the five men enter his saloon. Saloon patrons usually didn't enter wearing bandanas over their faces.

"Gentlemen," Ezra said, letting the envelope drop to free his hands. "Perhaps you don't understand. The bank is three doors down."

The men moved quickly, but the cardsharp was quicker. The derringer leapt to his hand as the men raised their guns at him. 

"Five of us, Standish -- one of you," the largest of the five growled. "Don't do nothin' stupid."

"Drop it! Or we shoot you where you stand!" said the one with the dirty-blonde hair. 

A slim man with close-cropped hair and cold blue eyes stood to the side, letting the other four men form a protective barrier before him.

Ezra sighed. He could take out one of them, definitely...two, maybe...but five? The odds were against him. He considered asking them discuss amongst themselves which one of them wanted to die, but figured that they wouldn't care much for that. They didn't seem to be of the variety that was dissuaded so easily. He dropped the small weapon, raised his hands and hoped for the best.

He realized that the best was not to be when he saw the biggest of the masked men come at him. Ezra swung, and landed one blow across the man's jaw. The big man staggered. Ezra was drawing back for a second strike when the blonde reached him. The blonde grabbed him roughly by the hair, swinging him off his feet. Standish saw the thin man laughing as the large man raised his weapon and then sent it crashing into the gambler's skull. Ezra fell in a heap onto the wooden floor of the Redbird.

****

Part 3:

Chris gazed up at the large oil painting and again tried to decide if the bird was in the process of being captured or released, whether the girl in the green dress was an entrapper - persuading the finch from its freedom -- or a fool for allowing it to escape. His eyes drifted from the red finch to Viola's fine bosom and he shook his head with a laugh.

The Redbird Saloon was turning out nicely. Chris was surprised that things were going so well. For a time there seemed to be a danger of too many cooks supplying their recipe on how things should be done. The six investors all had an opinion that they felt needed to be expressed -- all had an idea of how to improve the saloon. They had stormed around the place during the week that it was _'closed for renovations'_ -- everyone demanding to be heard. A rather heated argument had broken out regarding the necessity for larger windows versus a longer menu. The imbroglio included a certain amount of name-calling, a broken chair, a dented bar rail and half a dozen shattered glasses. Ezra put an end to that, declaring himself God-King of the Redbird...he would listen to suggestions, but all decisions came from him. 

Larabee turned when he heard Inez speak sharply to the bartender as he arrived to take up his shift. "Joe," she said. "Why did you leave such a mess for me? I come to open up this morning and find the dirty glasses still sitting here and no one had wiped down the bar..."

"Hey, Inez," Joe said, lifting his hands, "Mr. Standish said he was gonna close up. There was no one about last night so he sent me home. Said he'd do it."

Inez shook her head, "Joe, you should know better than that."

Joe shrugged and did his best to step out of Inez's glare.

The conversation reminded Chris that Ezra was obviously missing from the saloon. The gambler had been spending most of his time here recently. Chris knew that Vin was currently on patrol (not Ezra)-- so where was that cardsharp? 

Chris asked, "Inez, have you seen Ezra anywhere today?"

Inez shook her head. "No, señor," she said. "Not today."

"Place was locked up when you came this mornin'?" 

"Sí, señor," Inez looked suspiciously at Larabee and then turned her dark eyes on Joe. "Only Joe did not do as he was told."

Joe shook his head. "But Inez, Mr. Standish said..."

Inez shook her finger at him and Joe said no more.

Chris looked up as Buck and Josiah entered and asked, "Have either of you seen Ezra?"

"Since it's nearly suppertime, I can't say that he's just sleepin' in," Buck said as he sat. "Probably hidin' out again. You checked the roofs lately?"

"You know how our brother likes high places," Josiah said with a grin. Ezra had a habit of sneaking off by himself, finding the most out-of-the-way and unreachable places to relax. The steep roof of the saddle-shop was a favorite perch. He seemed to prefer heights but was also fond of small places. Standish was always astonished to find that the others had become worried when he wasn't immediately found. Recently, he had been much more conscientious about this behavior and would at least try to remain in sight.

Chris sighed. "Damn him. I figured that since he's gotten 'imself his own saloon, I'd never have trouble findin' him again. Figured he'd be here all the time. Now where in the hell did he run off to?"

"Who's runnin' where?" Nathan asked as he joined the table with JD. 

"Our brother, Ezra, is not to be found," Josiah replied.

Nathan rolled his eyes and groaned. "Well that figures. Redbird probably started makin' a profit so he thought he'd go off and spend some of it."

"Well, he's in town," JD said. "Just checked on my horse and Chaucer's there."

"He's just goin' back to his old habits," Josiah said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Nathan agreed, "Hidin' out so that he don't have to take responsibility for anythin'. He's figured that if anythin' needs to be done, as long as he ain't in eyesight, he ain't gonna be picked for the job. He probably thinks that he's absolved from the extra work since he's got this place to run now."

JD shrugged and said, "Redbird's been keepin' him mighty busy. It's lookin' pretty fine lately. Who would'a thought that the place cleaned up so good?"

"That's 'cause we did most of the cleanin'," Nathan reminded him.

"Well..." JD started, but unable to figure out what else to say, he fell silent.

The five men sat around the table, enjoying a discounted drink or two in an establishment that they had invested in. It wasn't until Vin showed up that they realized how much time had passed. It was evening, and the sun was starting its path downward.

"Hey," Vin said, looking around. "Where's Ezra? He's s'pose to take over for me." Somehow, after trading shifts first with Ezra and then with JD, Vin had managed to end up with two patrols so close together. He never could keep track of such things and often found himself in such a position.

"He ain't shown yet?" Buck asked, glancing around.

Josiah stretched as he stood. "I suspect it's time to go looking for our lost sheep. We'll have to check all of the usual places."

"I'm not goin' up onto the saddle-shop roof!" JD said emphatically. "If he's up there this time, I'll just throw rocks at 'im. I almost broke my neck when I tried to get up there that one time." He nodded to Vin. "You go up there if he's not comin' down."

"Well, I'm not goin' to his room," Buck groaned. "If he's asleep, I don't want to get shot for just tryin' to do the man a favor. Hell, I don't know a soul who's more ornery than that southerner in the mornin'."

"It ain't mornin', Buck," JD reminded.

"Just the same," Buck returned.

'Well, it's a pain in the ass if you ask me," Nathan grumbled. "You'd think a grown man could follow a simple schedule."

"It's not like him to miss a shift," Vin stated. He looked from one man to the next.

"Probably just got occupied with somethin'," Buck said. "I know I lose track of time when I'm participatin' in certain activities."

"We'll take a look around," Chris said. "We'll find 'im and drag 'im on out of whatever hiding place he's found. He's probably figured out by now that he's late and thinks it's safer to just stay put." He motioned to the others and they all started their search.

****

Part 4:

Buck approached Ezra's room with his usual trepidation. He knocked, but didn't get a response. With a sigh, he decided he'd better check inside. The door was locked, as usual, but Wilmington had learned how to jimmy it. He pushed open the door judiciously, calling out the gambler's name, hoping that it would keep him from getting shot...but the room was empty. Buck had no idea if Ezra had been here lately... the room was always so neat and perfect. 

JD and Vin checked the rooftops. Nathan and Josiah asked questions around town, and poked into the some of the known hideaways that Ezra had found. Chris questioned the stable boys. Pat and Eddie at the livery said that they hadn't seen Mr. Standish all day, which Chris had to admit, was unusual. Ezra usually took great care of that chestnut horse of his.

The six men returned to the Redbird an hour later, more troubled than when they left it. 

"Okay," Chris said. "Where the hell is he? Who was the last to see 'im?"

Vin raised his hand. "That'd probably me," the tracker responded.

"When was that?" Josiah asked.

"Last night, late. He was sittin' at this table writing a letter." Vin furrowed his brow, remembering the conversation. "We talked a bit. Then I left."

"What you talk about, pard?" Buck asked.

"It's kinda personal, I guess," Vin replied and then added. "Talked about Paris."

"Paris?" Josiah asked.

"Yeah, his ma wanted him to go there with her and he was thinkin' that maybe he should'a tooken her up on that offer."

"Did he go?" Nathan asked. "He could 'ave left town. That'd explain why we can't find him. Got a ride on someone's wagon. He probably figures we'd count on 'im takin' Chaucer so he left the horse behind so we wouldn't be able to figure what he'd done."

JD nodded. "Yeah, and he'd probably figure that it would be better to leave Chaucer here if he was heading to Ridge City to catch a train. He wouldn't want to leave his horse there -- he'd rather leave it in Four Corners where there're folks who'd look after 'im proper. Paris! Man, oh man! Imagine that!"

Josiah sighed. "I've always dreamed of seeing Paris some day. I know that Ezra and I discussed it at length one day. He seemed smitten with the city and insisted that he'd travel there."

Buck stood quickly, looking disgusted. "He didn't go to no Paris. What are you all thinkin'? His stuff's still here." He looked to Vin. "He didn't say he was goin', did he?"

Vin shook his head. "No, he was just thinkin' on it is all."

"You know how he is when he gets an idea in his head," Nathan said. "Stubborn fool will follow it to the end without thinkin' of the consequences. We'll probably get a letter from him in a month or so, tellin' us that he'd be comin' back when he felt like it. Either that or he'll be askin' for his clothes to be boxed up and sent."

"You honestly think he just took off?" Buck questioned. "Just headed off to Ridge City to catch a train and left everythin' behind? Without even a note or a _'goodbye'_? Think about it! Would he actually leave the Redbird?"

"He's comin' back," JD insisted. "I betcha he just took off for a bit of a vacation. Catch up with his ma and then come back when it's all over. Bet he'll have quite a story to tell."

Buck grimaced. "Hell, he's still gettin' the Redbird on its feet. He wouldn't leave it now. You know how hard he's been workin' on gettin' the place put together. You think he'd just go and leave his damn horse without givin' someone the once over on how to take care of the fool thing?"

"Think he'd just go and leave us?" Vin added. 

"I reckon he wouldn't," Chris said. "Still, we'd better check everything. JD, I need you to send a telegram to Ridge City. See if anyone matching Ezra's description got on a train headin' east. The rest of us will do a bit more searchin'." He nodded to the others. "Talk to everyone. Someone must 'ave seen 'im."

__

**Part 5:**

Chris entered the Redbird the following morning and paused. The others hadn't arrived yet and there was still no sign of the gambler. They had searched into the night for him, until it became obvious that he was not going to be easily found. Where the hell was Standish? Chris crossed the floor and sat down at their usual table with a sigh. "Damn you, Ezra," Chris muttered, remembering something that Vin had once said. "Where'd ya slither off to?"

He looked up when JD suddenly entered and shouted, "Chris! Got a response back from Ridge City!"

Chris noted the shock on the kid's face. "What's it say, JD?"

JD ran the few steps to the table and read from the yellow paper that he clutched in his hand. "Man matching your description boarded afternoon train heading east. Registered as Mr. Sayles from Charleston."

"That all?" Chris asked tersely.

JD flipped over the page as if he thought there would be more on the back. "That's all they said."

"How'd you describe 'im?" Chris asked, looking away.

"Ah, brown hair, fancy clothes, southern accent," JD responded.

Chris glowered. "Sayles..." he muttered. He hadn't heard Ezra using that particular name before, but if Standish were trying to slip away -- certainly he would use an unfamiliar name. 

JD stared down at the telegram. "Maybe it's just someone who kinda looked like him, huh? Do you really think he'd just leave? Even if it were just for a while?"

Chris frowned. If Larabee had been asked that question a few months ago, he would have quickly said -- yes, of course the bastard would leave. But today... 

"No," Chris replied. "I don't think so. But I need to be sure." Larabee glared at the telegram in JD's hand. It just didn't tell them enough. "Lemmie see that, JD," he said, as if he could discern something more from the simple return message. He reached out his hand for the telegram.

JD tried to hand it to Chris, but fumbled with the paper and it drifted out of his hand. Chris watched the lightweight paper float to the ground, as JD snatched for it and missed it. The paper ended up near Chris' feet. The gunslinger sighed and bent down to pick it up. 

Something caught his eye. Another paper was just visible against pedestal leg of the table. Chris reached out and retrieved the paper -- or rather an envelope. 

"What is it?" JD asked. Noting Chris' puzzled expression. Larabee flipped over the envelope and showed JD the familiar handwriting that addressed the letter. "Didn't Vin say that Ez was writin' a letter last night?" JD asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, noting that it was addressed to Maude in New York. Larabee cared a lot about privacy. He did his best not to intrude on his men, but he needed some answers and perhaps the answers were held in this letter. He pulled out the papers within.

"Wow!" JD said when the three bills fell from the pages. He picked up the money and looked at it in fascination. "Two $100's and a $50!" He fingered the money in fascination. He didn't see such large denomination bills very often.

Now there was no doubt in Chris' mind that something had happened to Ezra. It was bad enough to think that Ezra would leave a personal note unattended... leaving the money was unthinkable.

He unfolded the letter and read it silently.

__

Dear Mother:  
I hope that this letter finds you in good health and humor. As you have undoubtedly noticed (you are unusually perceptive), I have enclosed the remainder of my debt. I realize that you shall scoff at the foolhardiness of your only child, trusting the postal service to deliver this amount. But, Mother, I know that once legal tender has started its journey in your direction there is nothing to stop it. There is no doubt in my mind that these bills shall reach you far quicker than should be naturally explainable.

My only fear is that this letter shall reach your location too late. Are already steaming across the Atlantic while my letter waits forlornly at the shore? In any case, I am certain that it shall find its way to you eventually. I only wish that this missive arrives in time to wish you a safe journey and a pleasant excursion. I am quite jealous of your adventure and hope that it is successful.

I think this would be an appropriate time, now that we are square on all matters of finance, to inform you of my latest venture. It will amuse you to note that I have again purchased property in Four Corners. Now Mother, don't laugh...it is unbecoming of a lady. I came into a windfall and have again purchased a saloon in town. I know, you were less then impressed with my managerial skills in my previous venture, but I believe that I have learned from the experience. You will be amazed to note that I found investors among my compatriots. Yes, Mother, it is difficult to believe, but true.

And, sit down Mother -- I don't want you to swoon and hurt yourself --I am delighted to say that the business thrives. Perhaps you will see fit to visit The Redbird on your return to our uncivilized country. You may even find a reason to finally be proud of your darling child. I know you feel that Four Corners is an unworthy location for my endeavors, but I have become accustomed to the locale and perhaps it favors me. I know that I have not been able to accomplish much in this life to find favor in your eyes, but in time I feel I shall make a success of this enterprise and perhaps you will recognize this achievement. 

Mr. Tanner interrupted my correspondence for a few minutes. You may remember him from your previous visits...buckskins...long hair...rather unkempt...probably toting a rifle. There is the possibility that he escaped your attention due to his obvious lack of monetary wealth. Surprisingly, he is one of the investors in The Redbird -- the first in fact. He is, truly, a remarkable human being and I count myself as lucky to be acquainted with him. He is exceptionally perceptive and has quite a way with words, although he uses them rather sparsely and at times...incorrectly. He has just reminded me of my reason for remaining in this dusty burg. He and the other lawmen of this town are, indeed, the finest gentlemen I have ever had the pleasure to know.

As much as I wish to accompany you, I must again refuse your kind offer. I have a responsibility to this town, to these people, that I cannot renounce. You will need to travel without me.

Mother, this letter is long and the hour late. It is time to conclude. I shall ask Mr. Sanchez to say a prayer for the safety of the other passengers on your ship. I will request this because I believe the Lord would disregard a prayer from me... and He wouldn't know what to do with one for the likes of you. I believe if Mr. Sanchez asks for the safely of everyone else on board...you might be included in the mix. And perhaps the others may be protected from your 'cunning schemes' during their crossing.

I will not ask you to be careful, for I know you always are. It is the people of France that I fear for, and I hope that you do not ruin relations between our countries forever. 

Return soon. Your Devoted Son, Ezra 

Chris lifted his head, aware that JD was watching him. The Kid was still fingering the bills that had fallen loose of the letter. Chris remembered what Vin had told him a couple months ago and knew what the money was for. 

"Damn, that pig-headed southerner," Chris grumbled, drawing a curious look from JD. Larabee still found it hard to believe that Maude had called Ezra on ever dime she'd spent on him during his childhood -- and that Ezra had felt it necessary to pay it. Chris tried to remember money spent on Adam and couldn't for the life of him manage it. Larabee realized he'd spend every last dollar on the planet to get that boy back.

"So," JD asked as he straightened the bills. "You got any clues in there?"

"Nothin' beyond the fact that he wasn't plannin' on goin' with her," Chris said with a sigh. For all the ire and venom Ezra voiced toward his mother, the letter revealed the simple fact that Ezra loved her dearly, that he worried about her. After all that had been going on lately, it surprised Chris. 

I should remember, he thought, nothing should surprise me about Ezra.

He carefully folded the letter and took the bills from JD before placing the paper and money back in the envelope. He looked at the address for a moment. They were never able to get this sort of information when needed. In the past, when Ezra had been hurt, they couldn't discover where his mother was -- Ezra wouldn't tell. At least, they knew where she was this time, if things went badly. 

Damn, Chris thought as he shoved the letter into his pocket. He hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

****

Part 6:

Vin tiredly headed back to his wagon. He'd spent the entire day riding through the outlying area, searching. But there was no sign. The sky was just beginning to grow dark but the night fires had not been lit. The streets were dark as his mood. It had been a long and tiring day without any relief and all the tracker wanted to do was to turn in early and get started again with sunrise. 

Tanner prided himself at being a fine tracker, and the fact that he could find no trace of his missing friend hurt terribly. For all his skills, he couldn't find the trail. There was just not enough information to go by. Too many people had come and gone from the town during that long day when nobody noticed the cardsharp was missing. 

That in itself troubled Vin. Why didn't anyone notice? Why didn't he notice? Ezra had been missing for nearly a day before anyone even cared -- a whole day while clues were trampled and destroyed. 

Plus, Ezra had disappeared while Vin was on patrol -- that ate at him more than anything. Tanner remembered coming through town that night and seeing the whole street was dark. The tracker had been tired at that hour, nodding his head to his horse's slow gait, dreading the fact that he had pulled the afternoon shift as well, wanting the night to finish so he'd have a chance to get some sleep.

He had ridden past the darkened Redbird without even thinking of Ezra -- not even realizing what sort of trouble he may be in -- not knowing that he was gone.

The Redbird had provided no hint of what had happened. It had been busy on that Monday, and any trace that had been left was long ago obliterated. The only thing they had was the forgotten letter that had been hidden against the table's leg. And so Vin had searched the surrounding area. He'd hoped he could find something obvious... a gold cuff link embossed with EPS...a silk handkerchief ... a bit of red cloth. But nothing was that easy. At least there had been no sign of blood.

JD and Nathan had searched all through the town, asking everyone if they'd seen Ezra. The answer was always the same... not today...not yesterday. People were genuinely concerned when asked, saying they'd keep an eye open for the gambler, asking what they could do. But still, no one had seen him.

Ezra had been missing for nearly two days now.

Vin stood beside his home, resting his hand on the side of the wagon. "Where'd ya go, Ezra," Vin muttered to himself. He hoped that Nathan was right, that Ezra had hopped a ride on a wagon -- it was more comforting than to think something bad had happened to him. JD had told him about that telegram from Ridge City. Could that have been Ezra? If it was, why didn't he wire them and let them know what was going on? 

Would it really be a whole year before Ezra returned from Paris? He had left all his possessions here -- which really amounted to his horse, some books and a wardrobe of clothing. Vin could understand leaving the horse -- Ezra couldn't very well take Chaucer with him -- could he? But the clothing would pack easily enough. Well, not if you're trying to slip away...not if you're trying to run off. Ezra had probably had to leave such possessions behind before in his quick escapes from the various towns where he'd run cons. But he should have taken a change of clothing ... at least. Well, he may have taken something. It wasn't as if they knew exactly how many silk shirts or swallowtail jackets the man had. Standish was always ruining one and buying another.

Was it comforting to think that Ezra had left -- had run out on them? 

"I'll never understand him," Vin thought. Maybe Ezra felt that he couldn't face them, felt that they'd all consider it 'running out' so he slunk away in the dark. Standish really did sound like he wanted to go to Paris. And he would be back... wouldn't he?

The tracker looked across to The Redbird Saloon and remembered when he and Ezra were stuck in that little cave, when Ezra was so badly hurt after the shootout in Kotter's Ridge. The gambler had told him about his dream of owning his own saloon and how that dream had been destroyed when he lost the Standish Tavern. Ezra had given up on ever achieving this desire -- but with the help of his friends, he had finally been able to own a profitable establishment. Would Ezra honestly leave as soon as his dream was realized?

No, no, he wouldn't go, Vin told himself. 

If the gambler hadn't left town willingly... then... well, Vin didn't want to have to think about what had happened to him.

Tanner turned when he heard a sound... a quiet footstep...too quiet. Someone was trying to sneak up on him. Vin pulled his gun as a man leaped from the shadows at him.

Vin fired, but the shot went wild as a man wearing a bandana over his face dove at him, throwing him off balance and to the ground. Vin kicked out at the man, a dirty-blonde with a black eye. He caught the man in the stomach and throwing him back.

Two more men were suddenly on him. "Quiet down, Tanner!" the blonde hissed as he came back and gagged the tracker.

A huge man flipped him easily onto his stomach. "Let's make this easy," he said. Vin struggled to get loose of them, and the huge man said, "Or we can make this hard." Vin felt a knee connect with his back as he was further shoved into the dirt. 

"Dang it," the shortest of the three growled. "Let's get this one trussed up good. Don't let 'im get to his feet like the other one." He roughly started tying Vin's hands. All of them were masked.

Josiah stepped out of the church and into the growing night. He glanced up at the sky and sighed. He had spent the day talking to a group of cowboys on a cattle drive, hoping to gain some information from them -- but no one had any information on their missing friend. He turned to the boardwalk as Buck approached. The ladies-man smiled and was about to speak when the two men heard the gunshot.

"Brother Buck," Josiah said as he drew his weapon. "It seems that there may be trouble a-foot."

Buck turned and ran toward the sound of the melee. "Don' know if it's a foot that's in trouble, but I 'spect we'd better to take a peek." Buck frowned as he noticed the fight was taking place beside Vin's wagon.

Vin heard voices coming from across the street as Buck and Josiah rushed toward him. "Vin!" Josiah was shouting. "Vin!"

Buck pulled his gun and aimed it at the men as they let the tracker loose. "You boys hold on there," he yelled. 

Another form materialized out of the growing dark, firing a shot at Wilmington. Buck yelped as he jumped backward, hearing the hiss of the bullet passing far too closely to his head. A fifth man fired from an alleyway and the three who had attacked Vin disappeared into the dark. 

Vin struggled against his bonds as Buck and Josiah took off after the attackers.

****

Part 7:

The six lawmen sat around the table that had become known as their _regular table_, waiting for sunrise. Vin sat slumped in his chair; his back felt like hell. Nathan had given him the once-over after the attack, pronouncing him fit but bruised. 

Vin slammed his hand down on the table in frustration. "I should'a been able to get '_one_' of 'em!" he shouted. The saloon was empty, aside from them, waiting for another day to begin.

"There was five of 'em, Vin," Buck said. "Even you can't take on five."

"If I could'a just grabbed onto one, then we'd have a chance of findin' out what they did with Ezra," Vin groused. "I shouldn't 'ave missed that first shot."

"They didn't give ya a chance," Chris countered. "Can't do nothin' for that."

First, Ezra disappeared and then Vin was attacked at his home. The two incidents had to be connected. _'The other one'_ -- the men had spoken of the need to get Vin _'trussed up good...don't let him get to his feet like the other one." _Vin remembered the blonde's black eye and wondered if that was due to Standish.

The lawmen had searched the town again that night, without finding any clues. The men had cleanly disappeared. More than one townsperson had said that they had seen horsemen riding off, but the direction of the men and the number of people varied. The lawmen followed these leads until the trails disappeared in the dark.

Vin could only give a meager description of the men. The largest of the group had brown hair and brown eyes. The blonde had blue eyes, one of them blackened, the third man was short with black hair, brown eyes and thick eyebrows. Their accents were unremarkable.

Buck and Josiah had seen little concerning the two in the alleyways. The only thing that they could truly say was that one was thin and the other one limped.

"We'd better wire Maude," Josiah said quietly.

"Maybe we should wait 'til we know what's gone on," Buck suggested.

"She's about to get on a ship. She'll be gone for months." Josiah turned to Chris. "I know if it were my boy, I'd want to know. It'd tear me up to be so far away."

Chris returned the preacher's gaze, seeing the grief of a father in danger of losing a son. "Do it, Josiah," Chris said. "Try to keep it positive. If we're lucky, maybe she'll wire back sayin' he's on his way to her." He knew that this possibility was looking less and less viable, but he could hope.

Chris sighed and added, "Send another wire to find out who the hell is on that train. Give 'em a description of Standish down to his gold tooth and his green eyes. I gotta know if this Sayles is our man."

"At least," Vin said. "At least it looked like they were just tryin' to capture me." He turned to the others. "It wasn't like I got hurt." He rubbed his back and added, "Much."

The first subtle shades of morning filtered the sky and Vin stood. "Time to get goin'," he said.

The men stood, shuffling their feet, stamping the weariness from their legs as they prepared to spend another day in search.

****

Part 8:

Ezra sighed and tried to keep his head still. If he kept his head still, the pounding would stop and if the pounding stopped, his stomach would relax and he wouldn't have to vomit again. If he didn't vomit, then he could keep his arm still. He concentrated, breathing slowly through his mouth - through his split lips, doing his best to quell his nauseous stomach. 

He shivered in the chill and blinked into the familiar blackness. The cold of the stone beneath him helped ease the aches and pains somewhat, but the uncompromising surface was not exactly welcome against his bruised skin. A feather bed would have much more comforting.

There were five of them -- the big one was named Grayson or Grayse. Yes, Ezra had often heard "Good one, Grayse," when the big man hit him. Grayson had huge hands and could use them like clubs against him. Ezra's ears still rang from the man's assault.

And one was named Levitt... And Paully -- or maybe it was Polly...and maybe someone named Terr. He couldn't be certain which one was which. The one called Slim stood apart from the rest, watching, commenting. "Good one, Grayse. You get 'em, Terr. Again, Lev! Again! Polly, you're lettin' him sag. Hold 'em so Terr can get another one in."

They had come at him in the Redbird...pain...then blackness. Ezra had awakened just before they put him in here...had tried to get away. He had been able to land a few blows. Sure, they had secured his hands, but his legs were free. One of the men still limped from that assault and Ezra had been able to get a good swipe at the blonde's face with his bound hands. Grayson's jaw was already swollen from their first attack and the big man seemed cowed by Ezra's frantic attempt to get away. Ezra had kicked out at the giant and then made for the weakest link, roughly knocking down the shortest of the group and tearing into the night.

He hadn't gotten far --only a few yards at most. He slammed against a stone wall. Where the hell was he? Hands closed on him and spun him around and that's when the pummeling had truly begun.

He didn't remember being dropped in here, this small place. When he came to, it took him a while to figure out where he was. His muddled mind just wasn't working properly and it was so damn black. It wasn't until they returned that he discovered the answer. When he realized his circumstance, his heart sunk.

They had come at him more than once since he was put in here. But at least, it was only two at a time. Ezra suspected there wasn't enough room here for any more than that. How many times had they returned? Ezra wasn't sure. Time seemed to speed up and slow down on him in this darkness -- this familiar place. Once he thought that only a few minutes had passed between visits, but the men had spoken about whether or not he'd had a 'good night'. Had an entire night passed?

Slim was angry. Talking about revenge...evening a score. The others...well...they just seemed to like to inflict pain. Sometimes they didn't attack. Sometimes one of them would bring water to him...water but no food. The food didn't matter, really. He wouldn't have been able to keep it down in any case. 

God, his head hurt. Ezra waited in the blackness for the blinding light to return, for when they lifted the boards and that heavy oilcloth.

His left arm ached miserably. He hoped it wasn't broken again, it felt like it might be. If he could, he would have it cradled against his stomach, but his wrists had been tied together, and the best he could do at the moment was keep it still. He had tried at one point to get loose of the ropes, but the rope had been tied far too tightly and he could make no headway in the darkness, using only his teeth. He could taste blood as he worked at the ropes, and knew that the cords had cut into his wrist by now. His hands felt numb. He couldn't move the left at all. Yes, the arm was probably broken again.

His legs hurt too much to even try moving them. They certainly seemed to be angry about his attempt at escape and wanted to ensure that he wasn't able to gain his feet again. The ropes binding his ankles were superfluous -- he doubted he could stand if he were allowed to try.

Still...if he could get loose of the ropes, he could get out. He had escaped from here before -- he could do it again. Of course, he had two sound arms before, and could at least... move. And he hadn't been alone then.

Alone...so desperately alone. He sighed as he rested his head against the cool hard surface. It wasn't so bad the last time.

****

Part 9:

Josiah and Chris walked side-by-side along the boardwalk. JD and Nathan had gone to the east of town. Vin and Buck to the west, widening their search of the surrounding area. Whoever had taken one of their men, had come back for another. They couldn't have gone too far. The lawmen traveled in pairs now. The attackers had come when their victims were alone... vulnerable. They were not about to let that happen again.

And still, there were too many unknowns. Were these men after the town's lawmen? Or were they just picking off random people when they were alone? The men had called Tanner by his name...had spoken of _'the other one_.' Chris felt in his heart that his men had been targeted...why go after armed men if there were easier targets to be had? The question was _'why?_'

Mr. Juje from the telegraph office suddenly leaned out the door when he saw the two men approach and Josiah sprinted the distance between them to retrieve the two pieces of paper from the man. Juje darted back into the office once the preacher had the dispatches in hand. He seemed grateful that it was Sanchez who retrieved the messages and was anxious to be out of sight.

Chris paused, watching Josiah read the wires and finding an answer he didn't want to see in the preacher's face. Chris signaled him into the Redbird, wanting a minute to sit down. Larabee gestured to Inez as the two men approached their table and whiskey appeared even before they were settled.

"Chris," Sanchez said as Larabee poured the drinks. "It isn't Ezra on that train." He held up one of the telegrams. "Sayles is about six feet tall, brown eyes and fifty years old."

Chris eyed the other piece of paper and guessed its contents. "What did Maude have to say?"

Josiah's face was morose. "The ship sailed. She's on the passenger list. The porter remembered her steamer trunk."

"Damnit!" Chris growled. He rested his head in his hands, remembering another day and time. He had been in Mexico... out of the country...when Adam and Sara died. A parent shouldn't be so far from their child if... "Damnit!" he said again. He should have sent the wire sooner...shouldn't have waited. 

"We can send a message to follow her," Josiah said quietly. "Let her know when she reaches France that she should turn around."

"No," Chris said distinctly. "We'll wait 'til we find 'im now. Let her know then."

"Where is he?" Josiah sighed. "We searched every building in town. We're searching the outlying area. Where could he be? Why did they take him?"

"I don't know, Josiah," Chris stood stiffly and said. "Let's keep moving. We'll just keep expanding the search. He can't be far."

Josiah remained at the table as Chris headed to the door. He looked around the saloon, remembering how excited Ezra had been at the purchase of the building, how he had supervised the cleaning and ever little detail of the refurbishing. It was a fine place, anyone would be proud to own it.

The portrait of Viola and the red finch caught his eye and he smiled at it. Ezra had spoken to him about all the hidden symbolism in the picture, had gone into great detail -- but honestly, nobody paid much attention to the dusty corners of the picture when lovely Viola occupied so much of the frame. Viola smiled at the little red finch that balanced on her finger. She looked so happy and content -- not even aware of the open window behind her. She didn't realize what she was about to lose.

Redbird... at least it wasn't _'Blackbird'_, Josiah thought, thinking again of his crows.

Josiah glanced down at the telegram in his hand. The ship had left an hour ago. His telegram should have made it in time. Had Maude received it? Or had it arrived too late. Had she received it and sailed in spite of the message?

The big man sighed as he stood, remembering the letter that Chris had allowed him to read, the letter that Ezra had written to his mother. Josiah wondered again about the strange relationship between mother and son. They seemed to be more like business partners than such close relations. But, in the letter Josiah had seen a boy who simply wanted his mother to notice him, to praise him, to be proud of him. She didn't know what she was missing.

"We'll find you, son," Josiah promised softly. "Dear Lord, help us find him."

****

Part 10:

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut as the boards and oilcloth were again removed and the brightness flooded into his dark world. He heard the lock turn and the barred door opened. Would it be water this time or would they be back for more exercise.

He heard someone leap down beside him and he tensed himself, waiting. His head was still swimming and he found that he could barely concentrate on what was going on. 

"Standish," a voice growled... it was Slim. That was a good sign. Slim usually didn't participate in the beatings. Too much of a gentleman, Ezra supposed. Or rather, Slim didn't want to perform such manual labor.

Ezra blinked, trying to see in the brightness. The light felt like daggers to his eyes and he doubted that he could fully open them in any case. His whole head hurt and he was certain that his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

He could see the outline of Slim standing over him. Ezra squinted at him and said nothing.

"Standish," Slim repeated, "Don't worry none. It'll all be over soon. Once we get our hands on Tanner. He'll join ya in a little bit."

"Leave 'im alone," Ezra said, barely above a whisper. What the hell did this man want with Vin now? And why would they want to bring him here -- of all places. Ezra had recognized his location the first time they had opened the door above him. He had seen it before. He had been here before, had been here with Vin. How could they bring Vin back to the burned down remains of the Vaughn ranch with its convenient little basement cell? How could they bring him back?

"Let him be," Ezra stated.

"You ain't got much to say in the matter."

Ezra's strained eyes couldn't see the man clearly, but his voice... his voice was familiar. He had been puzzling over it for some time, but his mind was as sluggish as molasses. That voice... that voice... something suddenly clicked. The last time he had been trapped here, he had heard more than seen Clement Vaughn -- the man who had captured himself and Vin. The voice he heard now was Vaughn. But no, Vaughn was dead. Chris had killed him here as the house burned above. 

Vaughn was dead...wasn't he? Please, Ezra thought, racking his uncooperative mind. Vaughn IS dead?

There was little information to be found regarding Vaughn after the incident, after the house had burned. Ownership of the land had been in question ever since then. The Territorial Government had tried to lay claim to it as payment for the lawless acts of Vaughn and his men, but Vaughn's older brother, Randall, had recently laid his claim to it. Ezra remembered this vaguely... yes the statement sent by Randall Vaughn... JD had given it to him to read. Check the legality of it... wanted to see if it held any water. 

It had been a rather pleasant day then, a Wedneday. JD had walked up to him in front of the assayer's office and handed him the letter. Ezra had tried to read it, but then JD started going on about a horse and rider that was coming down the street. How he thought it was a mighty fine animal. Yes, kept going on about it and not letting Ezra get a chance to read -- a fine animal indeed. Good Lord, had anyone been taking care of Chaucer? Had the horse been fed? Someone should be taking care of his horse... 

Damn it, Ezra, the gambler thought. Stay focused. God, this was frustrating. He just couldn't put his thoughts in order.

Slim reached down and grabbed Ezra roughly by the collar and hauled him into a sitting positron. Ezra hissed in pain. Something was flung at him and Ezra ducked instinctively as the metal container struck him.

"Drink it," Slim growled. "Can't have you dead quite yet. Gotta keep you in the land of the livin' at least until we get that Tanner. Then we'll do it right this time."

Ezra fumbled with the cork on the canteen, unable to see properly, only having one working hand -- numb as it was -- and his arms bound. He gulped down the water as quickly as his battered mouth allowed him, knowing that the canteen would be snatched away.

Slim let the bloodied gambler drink for only a moment before he pulled the canteen away. He smiled when the man flinched from him. "Grayse!" he shouted as he tossed the canteen out of the cell. "Get me the hell out of this cesspool."

He turned back to see Standish squinting still, through swollen eyes. There was something he didn't like in that glance, so Slim struck out at the man with the heel of his boot, toppling him over again before Grayson leant him a hand and tugged him to the surface.

"Goddamn, good-for-nothin' con man," Slim spat as he climbed out of the cell and slammed the door down, locking it into place. "Nobody looks at me like that. I'll be sure glad when this is done."

"Want me to go teach 'im some more respect?" Grayson asked.

"Do what you want," Slim said with an air of indifference.

"Stinks in there," Grayson said in disgust.

"Let it go then." 

The heavy cloth was thrown back over the cell, dimming the light considerably...then the boards ---which snuffed it out completely. The throbbing behind his eyes lessened and Ezra sighed. The water seemed to have settled his stomach somewhat. He was grateful for that. The first time they had given him water, he threw it up almost immediately. 

It did stink in here. There was no type of sanitation... no form of a toilet or chamber pot. God, the humiliation of it. If he could only get out of here, get away from this place. At least he knew who the man was now. He didn't look much like his brother, but he sounded like him. 

Chris had killed Clement Vaughn in his attempt to free Vin and Ezra from the burning house... this very place. Clement had captured the two of them because Chris had killed his brother Aaron. Now another brother, Randall --also known as Slim -- had shown up... apparently seeking retribution for both kin.

"Brothers," Ezra muttered.

****

Part 11:

Chris sighed as he left the jail with Vin. It was morning again -- and still no sign of Ezra. He had been missing for four days now. The men who had attacked Vin had disappeared without a trace and Ezra was still missing.

"You think they'd have sent some word if they were holdin' him for some reason," Vin said. "Ransom or somethin'."

"We'll find 'im."

"What we gotta do is find those men. If we got them, then we could find Ezra."

"Unfortunately, they seem to have gone into hiding," Chris said. Of course they had been masked during the attack so they could have been in plain sight at this very moment. The lawmen had spoken to every newcomer and stranger to the town without finding anything to help them. There were plenty of visitors in town -- one group of men came with a cattle drive -- another group passing through...others just meandering their way through the west. Everyone had been questioned. No one gave any answers.

Vin searched the faces of the people they encountered...looking for that black eye, those thick eyebrows. He searched everyone's movements for that limp. He didn't find them. They weren't in town.

"I almost wish I would 'ave let those men take me the other night," Vin grumbled.

Chris looked up at him sharply. "What you gettin' at, Vin?"

"They would'a taken me to where they're keepin' Ez," Vin replied. "Maybe I would'a been able to help 'im. It took the two of us workin' together to get away from that Clem Vaughn. And, if they got me, at least he wouldn't be alone."

Chris sighed. "We don't know what they're up to, Vin. We can't take those kind of chances."

****

Part 12:

"Standish!"

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut against the glare. He hadn't even realized that they had removed the boards until now. Hadn't heard Slim jump down beside him. Slim was right beside him again, grabbing onto his collar. 

Ezra turned his head toward the man but found he couldn't open his eyes. Slim yanked him upright, causing his head to spin again. God, he didn't want to throw up. Lev and Terr had been down earlier. He could still hear the sound of their laughter as they came at him. There was nothing he could do against them -- unable to see and bound hand and foot. If he could only have freed his feet, he may have had some defense against them.

"They're makin' things difficult, Standish. It'll only prolong things for you."

"Oh?" Ezra said, finding it was all he was able to say.

"They're always in groups now. Can't get that man alone. We're gonna go get Tanner now. How do we get him?"

"Get?"

Slim shook the partially conscious gambler. "Godamnit, Standish!" Slim yelled. "We are getting Tanner one way or another. The two of you will die, just like you were meant to, just as Clem planned. It'll take the two of you to even up the score -- to let that Larabee know how I felt...to make up for my two brothers."

"Really?" Ezra said thickly...trying to understand exactly why killing two more people...strangers... could possibly make up for the deaths of two of your own brothers. It made no sense...no sense at all. How could anything make up for that? Brothers...he had no brothers of his own. What would it be like to have had brothers? 

He had cousins. There was Jeff, Shell and Jesse in Georgia...and Benjamin in Virginia... and Francis in Louisiana...no...no Frank died in the war.. and Benny too. Frank was always very distant -- he built model boats -- carving all the tiny pieces with a penknife. Benny acted superior to everyone, but secretly used to ask Ezra for help in his studies. And they both were dead.

His cousin Delores had a lisp. She was very self-conscious of it and when Ezra first met her he made the mistake of laughing at her. Not the act of a gentleman, of course, but he was only eight and thought she was being funny. Uncle Sergius didn't understand. Uncle Sergius was... difficult. And she was dead, and Sergius too... Cousin Delores and Uncle Sergius...dead... of the fevers... during the war.

"Are you a goddamn idiot?" Slim barked at him. 

"Perhaps," Ezra replied numbly. 

Then, of course, there was Uncle Lucas... Uncle Lucas Owens. The man kept slaves... ran a plantation... badly... Lucas had no children... didn't understand much about children... wasn't any good to his slaves... Uncle Lucas... underestimated them... 

"Hey!" Slim was shaking him harder. 

Maude...his mother...his only family really. Where was she? Oh yes, Paris -- of course -- not here. Typical really... she was away more often than with him. He remembered how, as a child, how he used to long to see her...yearn to be with her. She would show up, smiling, to retrieve him from whatever relative she'd left him with. She would use the traveling time to instruct him of his part in her upcoming plans, teach him new tricks, test his skills. He would always be so excited when he knew she was coming...coming to free him. He'd tried so hard to impress her -- to learn everything she taught him, to make her proud of him. His only hope had been that she would keep him with her -- that he wouldn't disappoint her in some manner that made her send him away again. 

Somehow, something always happened. Whether it was truly his fault or not, it didn't matter. She had no time to waste on him.

And then there were the occasions when she had promised to retrieve him, and she never arrived. Once, he'd waited for three days in the parlor of his Aunt Minnie, scrubbed and ready for Maude's arrival, afraid to leave for a moment in case he missed her. Finally Great Aunt Minnie had to show him the telegram to convince him that his mother had changed her plans. 

As he grew older...thirteen-years-old or so...Maude would just send the ticket. He'd ride the train alone. There was one time when he'd reached the destination, only to find that she had already gone. He had waited at the station for nearly a day before he discovered that she had left word for him at the ticket office -- along with a ticket to the new destination. It had been a long and lonely day.

"Damn it," Slim uttered. "He ain't got a whit of sense."

No, no...not a whit, Ezra thought. Not a whit, not a lick, not an iota, not a bit, not a scrap. 

Brothers...he thought again. Maybe...the lawmen he associated with might be something like brothers to him -- a family, of sorts. Chris, the leader, was the big brother...perhaps even the father of this motley group. Buck and Vin and JD were brothers. Josiah? A father too? Can a man have two fathers? Perhaps, to make up for the lack of one earlier on. Wouldn't it be nice to be among them again? Nathan too...a brother too, isn't he? Ezra smiled at the thought...wondering what his Uncle Lucas would have thought of that. "Uncle Lucas, I'd like to introduce my brother Nathan to you. He is a fine gentleman and as he is my brother and you are my uncle, he must be related to you as well. Perhaps we shall sit in the parlor while you serve him tea?" 

Slim released the battered man. How could this fool be smiling? Did he think this was a joke? He'd wipe that smile off the gambler's face and then he'd go to town and get his hands on Tanner. Once they had Tanner...then they'd put an end to this.

The gambler rolled himself into a ball, into one corner of the disgusting cell as Randall 'Slim' Vaughn worked out his frustration. Finally, when the captive no longer moved, Slim looked up to Grayson who stood grinning above him.

"Pack up the camp. We need to be ready to get the hell out of here. We'll go get Tanner and finish 'em both. Burn 'em, then get the hell out of here. No screw ups this time."

****

Part 13:

Buck and JD rode side by side, continuing to expand their search. Buck sighed as they approached the burned down remains of the Vaughn ranch. It wasn't so long ago that they had approached this place -- when the house still stood -- looking for Ezra and Vin and had missed them. Wilmington and Dunne had actually searched the house and had come away without finding their two secreted friends. 

At least the house was gone now and there wouldn't be that horrible memory to hang over his head. The cellar was no longer hidden.

"Someone had a campfire here," JD said, pointing to a blackened ring just outside the barn.

"Yeah," Buck said non-committed. "I think someone's camped out here pretty often." It was fairly well known that the neighboring ranchers used the old Vaughn place. Up until recently, Dean Hunger had been using the land to graze his cattle for the Split Infinity Ranch, but certainly someone else had taken up _'borrowing'_ the land by now. 

The two men moved through the barn, noting that the haylofts, that had once been full, were nearly empty now -- only a scattering of hay was left, and some straw still stacked in one of the stalls. The place had been ransacked of anything valuable. In a year or so the barn would tumble down and the whole place would return to the desert.

"I think there's been horses here pretty recent." JD said, pointing into one of the stalls. "Looks like whoever was here is gone now though."

"Yup," Buck said. "Could'a been just about anyone, I 'spect. Let's check the other buildings and keep on movin'." Buck felt uneasy. It was just the memory of what had happened here before that tugged at Buck's mind. The two men moved through the rest of the outbuildings without finding anything. Finally, Buck turned toward the ruined remains of the house and walked toward the burned out structure.

What was left of the house had fallen into the basement -- burned timbers, blacked bits of furniture, shards of pottery were scattered across the cellar floor. An old wood stove lay on its back. He turned away quickly, not wanting to remember the burning and popping building and the fear that went with it... the fear that he had totally missed the presence of his friends and had let them die.

He wanted to get the hell away from this place.

Buck shook his head and gazed at the sky. The sun was heading down. It was time they went home. 

JD walked slowly toward him and peered into the open basement, looking uneasy. "Sure did burn in a hurry, didn't it?" the young sheriff said, remembering.

"Come on, JD," Buck said. "Let's head on back. We got a long ride before nightfall. We'll do some more lookin' come mornin'. He's not here."

****

Part 14:

Ezra groggily turned his head. He was almost certain he had heard Buck's voice. "Buck?" he called tentatively, hoping that nobody came flying in at him to deliver punishment. "Buck?" he cried again, trying to raise his voice. 

Ezra closed his eyes and listened. Had he heard JD too? Maybe he heard horses moving about...maybe those horses were leaving. "Buck?" he called again, louder this time -- still hardly above a whisper. "JD?" But the sound of the horses drifted away until he was left in silence again. Had he really heard Buck and JD? Was it just his imagination?

It could have simply been Slim and the others, but they had gone earlier... hadn't they? Ezra was fairly certain he had heard them tear off toward Four Corners some time ago...how long? Who could tell? Ezra sighed, knowing why they were returning to town...knowing what they were after. He blinked at the blackness that surrounded him and hoped that Vin was able to avoid them again. God, he didn't want Vin here too. He knew how Vin hated confined places...dark, small, underground, filthy places. Vin didn't deserve to be here.

Vin must have been able to escape them again. The tracker was wily enough, that's for certain...adept enough to outwit them. Vin and the others were traveling in pairs. Chris had figured out, by now, that there was safety in numbers. With any luck, Larabee would be attached to Tanner's hip by this time and there'd be no chance for attack.

And the others too... all of them would be on the look-out...careful...watching each other's backs...because... because......because I'm missing. Ezra tried to breathe deeply, but his chest hurt fiercely, reminding him of Slim's recent beating. Ribs cracked...probably . 

Buck and JD...they were...looking for me...weren't they? Ezra listened, wondering again if it was Buck that he had heard. Was it JD? Were they looking for him? Were all of them looking for him?

"I'm here," he said hoarsely. "Please, I'm here." It was Buck and JD... they _were_ looking for him. They _would_ find him. He had to convince himself of this. The thought gave him hope. If he could only hold out for long enough... if he could only wait...they would find him. Hope...

He tried to remember... but was finding his mind wasn't working very well. It seemed like hours had passed since he had last heard the voices of Grayse and the others, since he had imagined Buck and JD... but it had been them, hadn't it?

He was so tired and sore and thirsty now too. Every inch of him hurt and he could do nothing to relieve it. All he could do was concentrate and try to remember that Buck and JD had been here -- that they would be back...that they were looking for him. He attached his mind to that. He would wait for them.

Vin had said that they'd miss him if he were gone. Were they missing him right now? 

He just wanted to be away from this place. He was so completely alone.

He shuddered and tried to listen, hoping to hear someone returning. Ezra pulled himself back into a protective ball, tightening himself into a corner of the cell and fell into a fitful sleep, wishing he could be anywhere else.

__

**Part 15:**

Chris and Vin strode side by side through the town. "It's strange not seein' 'im around," Vin said as they walked.

"Yeah," Chris agreed as he looked to the Redbird. Larabee had grown accustomed to seeing Standish standing outside the building -- had gotten used to seeing the southerner walking down the street, tipping his hat to the ladies or riding that temperamental horse of his. Larabee had grown accustomed to the gambler and his overpriced vocabulary, his arrogant manner and his sly wit. It was strange, because the con man irritated the hell out of him. One would think that once the gadfly had vanished Chris would be relieved, but instead he missed the ever-annoying Standish 

Vin turned his head slightly as he passed the alleyway with Chris by his side. It was just growing dark and the long shadows of evening were stretching to fill the narrow passageway. Tanner paused once he reached the next boardwalk and Chris outpaced him by a few strides. The gunslinger turned when he noticed his companion was left behind.

"What ya thinkin' 'bout?" Chris asked, seeing the concerned look on Vin's face.

"Just remembered," Vin said and paused.

Chris waited and then asked, "What about?"

"Just remembered that I gotta go back to my wagon," Vin said thoughtfully. "Should get that rifle with the scope."

Chris narrowed his eyes for a moment and then said. "Well, I 'spect we can head there."

"Nah," Vin replied. "You head on to the Redbird. Josiah and Nate'll be waitin'. JD and Buck should be here in a moment. I just wanna go get my hands on the rifle. It may come in handy."

Chris nodded and the two men stood on the boardwalk for a moment, not moving. Finally Chris touched his hat and headed across the street for the saloon as Vin turned and made his way toward his wagon, by way of the alley.

Tanner could feel the hair on his neck stand up on end as he entered the shadowy space. Something moved behind a barrel and Vin quelled his need to go for his pistol. He kept his face passive and his manner calm as he walked confidently down the alleyway, directly into the arms of his assailants.

He saw a masked man leap at him from behind a barrel, the huge man with hands like clubs. Vin ducked instinctively, slamming his shoulder against the man and driving him back. A dirty-blonde rushed at him, diving at him and allowing the giant to get clear of Vin's momentum.

The tracker struggled with the bandana-clad blonde, feeling the giant lay hold of him again, and another man, the short one, came at him. The short man gagged him as Tanner struggled. Vin paced himself, struggling only enough to make it look _'good_.' He planned on saving his strength. Let them take me, he thought. Let them take me to wherever they've got Ezra holed up, then we'll both get out.

The last two men entered the alley, one with a limp and the other, the thin man, who started urgently whispering orders. "Secure him! Get him tied, Lev! Hurry! Damn it! You were supposed to wait until it was good and dark."

The short one tied Vin's hands roughly while the blonde and the big man kept their weight on him. "Opportunity knocked," the short one said.

"Want me to clock 'im, Slim?" the giant asked.

"It may be easier to move him if he's awake and compliant." Slim said thoughtfully.

"Yeah," the short man said in a low voice. "Standish was like a sack of potatoes. Grayse and Terr dropped him at least twice. Think Tanner will behave?"

The one with the limp rubbed his knee and whispered, "Better knock 'im out."

Slim leaned forward and glared into Vin's eyes. "You gonna be good or do you want Grayse to knock ya cold? Worked good enough for that friend of yours. Unfortunately, he didn't behave and we had to teach him a lesson. He won't be movin' much for a while."

Vin nodded and tried to project the answer -- I'll be good --- but in his mind he was thinking -- you son-of-a-bitch, you just wait 'til I get my hands on you!

"Let 'im up," a voice -- clear and cold -- called out from behind Slim. Chris Larabee appeared at the entrance to the alley. "I said, _'let him up_!'"

The limping man turned and tried to draw his gun at the same time. He was cut down before the weapon left his holster. The others in the group dove for cover, drawing their weapons as they went.

Vin watched with wide eyes as the gunfire filled the air. Chris, Josiah and Nathan were just outside the alleyway, firing in. The assailants fired from whatever protection they could find, leaving Vin tied where he was, beside the formally-limping man who lay still and bleeding beside him

STOP! Vin thought, turning his head toward Chris. For the love of God, stop! He could see Chris and the others throwing him concerned looks as he tried to wiggle to the side of the alley and out of the line of fire. Bullets were zinging up and down the narrow channel.

Tanner heard the blonde grunt in pain and slump against the wall. Josiah leapt backward to avoid a shot from Slim. Nathan and Chris sprung into sight and back to cover again, firing into the alley, looking far too much like shooting targets as they appeared and disappeared from sight.

Stop, Vin thought again. Oh, God. Don't you realize? Don't you know?

Slim, Grayse and the short man had all found sufficient cover and were only waiting for the opportunity to get a shot in at the three lawmen who fortified the entrance of the alleyway. They weren't prepared for the two lawmen who came up at them from behind.

Buck and JD stormed into the alley from the backside, catching Grayse and Lev unaware. Both outlaws were shot down before they fully understood what was happening. Slim backed in-between two packing crates and held the five lawmen at bay ... but only for a short time. A well-aimed bullet from Larabee's gun was all it took to end his attempt to regain his brother's estate and bring revenge for Aaron and Clement Vaughn. 

Randall Vaughn gasped as the shot struck him and fell forward onto his face in the garbage-strewn alley.

It was over in a matter of minutes. Nathan gave the outlaws a quick glance as he hurried to Vin's side. "You okay?" Jackson asked, dislodging the gag. "You hit? They get cha?"

Vin struggled against him, looking wide-eyed at the five bodies in the alleyway. "My God, they all dead?"

Nathan nodded. "By the looks of it," he said. He looked to Josiah who nodded. "Yeah, we got 'em."

"S'okay, Vin," Buck said with a wink. 

"Okay?" Vin said incredulously. "They knew! Oh shit, they were the only ones that knew!"

"Knew what, cowboy?" Chris said, helping to untie Vin' s hands. 

"They knew where Ezra was," Vin said, pulling his hands away from Chris and rubbing his wrists. He looked to his friends, one at a time. "Now no one knows where to find him."

****

Part 16:

It had been a long time...he was sure of that. Even as he threaded in and out of consciousness, he perceived that time was passing.

His head throbbed and his throat ached. His mouth felt as dry as the desert. They hadn't been back with the water. Why had they stopped bringing water? They had, at least, provided him with that up until now.

Ezra turned his head slowly, looking blindly upward. It had been quiet for so long now. Were they even coming back?

He sighed, thinking that if had only gone to Paris. If had only gone with his mother, he never would have ended up here. His mind wandered. He remembered a play he had seen in New Orleans... "Le Mariage de Figaro"...such a lovely languages...an enjoyable evening in the theatre...where everyone is happy and gay and there is no darkness.

Why hadn't Slim and the others returned? He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling as if the stone cell was swaying now -- spinning slowly. Was he being left here to die? But Slim hadn't followed through with his plan.

Thank God, Ezra thought. At least Vin got away... at least Vin is free of this. 

He tried to put his mind to it, but couldn't quite figure it out. Why hadn't Slim and the others returned? Finally, he thought -- maybe they're dead? Maybe they're all dead? Slim and Grayse and all of them.

Even so... why hadn't _anyone_ come for him? Certainly...certainly...Chris and the others... certainly... they would have found out by now... would know....by now...certainly.

Buck and JD had been looking for him. They all must be looking. Why hadn't they come yet? If they had captured Slim and his men... they must have found a way... must have figured out where he was.

Why hadn't they come? Where were they? Were they dead as well? Chris and Vin and Josiah and Buck and Nathan and JD? Could Slim and the others have...

Ezra shuddered against the cold and pain and the darkness, and closed his eyes all the tighter. 

No, he thought, oh God no.

****

Part 17:

Vin glared at the far wall of the saloon while the others sat around the table, doing their best to ignore the empty chair, while Nathan fretted over him.

"You should'a let 'em take me," Vin muttered, as Nathan pulled at his shirt.

"They could'a killed ya, cowboy," Chris said.

"They were trying to capture me, not kill me," Vin growled. "They would'a taken me to where Ezra was. Why couldn't ya just follow? Why couldn't ya just see what they did and followed? We could'a found 'im." He glared at the healer who continued to hover over him.

Chris frowned at his mug and said. "Well, it may have been easier if you told me what you were plannin' to do."

"Yeah, and then what would ya 'ave done? You'd never 'ave let me try it." Vin crossed his arms over his chest. "Never would'a let it happen. We could be there by now." He jerked away from Nathan. 

Josiah shook his head. "Brother Vin, we all want to find Ezra, but we don't want to lose you in the process."

Nathan finally stepped clear of Vin, throwing his arms up in disgust. "Hell, Vin, I don't know why I try. I'm doin' my best to keep the all of you patched up and livin' and there you go, throwin' yerself right into a rattlesnake's nest. I don't know why I try."

"We cain't find 'im!" Vin yelled, drawing alarmed looks from the other patrons of the Redbird. The people in the bar judiciously moved away from the lawmen. "I was jus' doin' what I could to find Ezra. God, they were the only ones who knew where he is. They got 'im held somewhere and now there's no one even to look in on 'im."  
  
"We don't know that for certain," Josiah reminded. "There's probably someone still guarding him."

"And if that's the case, that guard'll probably be comin' to town to find out what happened," JD said. "Yeah, and then we'll get 'em."

Buck nodded earnestly. "We'll keep a lookout for this guard. Sure he'll make a showing somehow or another. Meanwhile, we'll just keep lookin'."

Vin just sighed and rested his head in his hands. He looked across to Buck. "We've looked everywhere there is to look. Ain't no place left. And who's to say that anyone is comin'? That anyone is left to come?"

"Well, we got the guys who done it now," JD said. "If we can jus' figure out who they are, we can maybe figger this whole thing out."

"The short one is named Lev. The big one is Grace. One of 'em is Terr -- either the blonde or that guy who was limpin' -- I don't know which. The thin one was called Slim. It's Slim that's their leader."

"JD, round up all wanted posters you can get your hands on," Chris said. "Let's see if we can find out a little more about these bastards."

****

Part 18:

And it is beautiful... especially in the spring. The flower vendors...the vibrant colors...the delicate scents. Such a refined place, beauty in every corner. And the language...such a poetic language.

__

Ah! Qu'est-ce que je vois!

Il n'y a qu'un pardon généreux...

Oh the culture, the art, the history. A place free of such blackness, such a filthy black place. 

__

Vous diriez non, non, à ma place; et moi, pour la troisième fois aujourd'hui, je l'accorde sans condition

The poetry...the literature

__

Moi aussi

...the theatre...

__

Moi aussi

the theatre...yes...it was so fine

__

Moi aussi. Il y a de l'écho ici!  
  
..the history...

__

De l'écho! J'ai voulu ruser avec eux; ils m'ont traité comme un enfant!  
  
And everyone is pleasant... and everyone is kind...there is neither pain nor hunger nor blackness.

__

Ne le regrettez pas, Monsieur le Comte

A lovely place...perfect in every way.

__

Une petite journée comme celle-ci forme bien un ambassadeur!

Oh, to be in Paris now.

__

Ce billet fermé d'une épingle?

If he had only gone with his mother when he had been given the chance.

__

Les cœurs vont te revenir en foule.

To be anywhere but here.

__

Est-il possible?

****

Part 19:

They had tried to draw answers from the bodies and their effects, to allow the dead men to tell their tales. Grace had a swollen jaw. The limping man was suffering from a recent blow to the knee. Lev had a bruised backside. And of course there was the blonde with the shiner. The lawmen came to the conclusion that Ezra was behind these injuries. So he had fought...had tried to escape at some time.

Their pockets revealed little. Slim had a set of keys, the blonde smoked a pipe, Grace chewed, Lev liked peppermints. The limping man had a cheap pocket-watch with a lock of golden blonde hair secured within. There was nothing on them to show who they were.

Their horses were found in the corral behind the livery. They were packed with camping gear, informing the peacekeepers that the men were ready to get on the move again. A dime-store novel was found in one saddlebag, a tattered Bible with half its pages missing in another, a pornographic book was stashed on a third horse. 

It was only when they searched the last horse, the one where they found more peppermints, that they discovered something. A red parcel stowed in one of the saddlebags. The hue was familiar -- everyone recognized it. The swallowtail jacket, once unrolled, revealed Ezra's weapons and the squashed black hat that he was so fond of. In the pockets they found his rings, his cufflinks, the keys to the Redbird and his gold pocket watch.

Josiah shook out the jacket, trying to draw the wrinkles from it. He knew that Ezra would be upset if it were damaged. He scrutinized the coat carefully, and saw no sign of blood. There was at least that to be thankful for. He sighed when he pulled a knotted piece of linen from one of the pockets...the sling that Ezra had been using -- that he was constantly removing whenever he thought no one was looking.

But, in spite of the evidence that they were indeed dealing with Ezra's captors, there was no identification of who these men were. The only name they found was "LEV" scratched onto the wood of a rifle's stock -- and they already had that information. The lawmen would have to rely on the wanted posters.

And so the six men sat around their table in the empty Redbird, leafing through the posters. It was late, the street fires were burning low. The bodies of the five outlaws had been dumped in the jail for now. The lawmen had originally convened at the jail so that they could look at the faces of the dead men to match them to the posters, but the desk did not allow for six men to sit around it and they had moved to the saloon.

They had shooed out the patrons and had locked the doors behind them. They didn't want to deal with distractions. Let the profits be damned for a night.

"Here's a guy named Alonzo "Slim" Baines. Wanted for robbin' a bank in Vermont." Buck held up a poster.

"Ain't the guy," Vin said after a cursory glance. "Don't look the least like 'im."

"This one looks kinda like the blonde," JD said, pulling one sheet from the pile. "Jules Dellacroix from New Orleans." He stumbled over the name -- trying to pronounce the X.

Nathan squinted at the face. "Could be," he said. The muddy images on the posters were always a hit-and-miss situation. One could never be very certain of their accuracy.

Chris took the poster from the sheriff and read the description. "Says he has a tattoo of a mermaid on his arm. That piece of shit ain't got no tattoo." And the poster was thrown onto the pile of rejects.

"Ignatius Riley," Josiah said, pulling out another poster. "Could be the big one." And the poster was placed in the 'possible' pile. 

"Hey now, here's a a guy called Konstantine Levin," Buck said. "Could be Lev." The poster was examined by all and deemed a 'possible' match. The description seemed to match the man even though the image was a little off and the man was supposed to have a Russian accent.

"I found a Diggory Grace!" JD said triumphantly holding up a sheaf.

Buck grabbed the page from the sheriff and threw it immediately onto the reject pile. "JD, that man is a foot too short and a shade or two too dark."

The young man shrugged. "It was the first 'Grace' that we'd come across, at least."

They had been going through the posters for hours now, finding mostly rejects and only a few possible suspects. For the most part, they couldn't find an image that matched the names they had to work with... this of course didn't mean anything. They had to rely on the inaccurate drawings and the sketchy descriptions.

"I found another Slim," Nathan said. There seemed to be more matches to the name _'Slim'_ than any of the others. Surprisingly...not all of them were that skinny. 

"Is it a keeper?" Buck asked.

Nathan pursed his lips as he read the description. "Maybe," he said without much enthusiasm.

"Hey...hey...hey!" JD said excitedly. "Look at this! Peter Levitt!" He held up the poster triumphantly. "Peter Levitt!"

Buck snatched the paper away and first examined the picture and then read the description. He grinned as he held it up. The image on the poster matched the face the dead short-man perfectly. "Peter Levitt," Buck said. "Wanted for murder and bank robbery in California." He returned to reading the text and his grin increased. "Also known as Peppermint Pete." 

"Got 'im!" Vin said enthusiastically.

Buck continued reading. "Known associate... Fabian Grayson."

"Fabian?" Nathan inquired.

"Grayse-on," Buck said slowly. "I think we may have found our Grace."

"Find the poster for Fabian Grayson," Chris ordered. It took some time for the image to appear. The poster had been thrown in the reject pile earlier on. The man on the document sported a beard and no mention had been made of his height, but it was a good enough match to pin on the giant of the group.

The known associates of both men were scrutinized. None of the names matched the names that Vin had heard, so every man listed was checked. Soon a Paul "Paully" Tremaine was found and matched to the limping man. From Paully they found Terrance Brown -- they now had a match to Terr. When the poster was found, the image wasn't a very good match, but it was close enough -- Terrance was their blonde.

Every associate of each man was checked, looking for a thin man or even a minor resemblance to Slim, but nothing was a close enough match. The four men had come from California...from towns around San Diego. The four all knew each other in some way or another but it appeared that none of them was known to keep company with Slim.

"Slim was their leader," Vin said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His eyes ached from the unaccustomed task of looking at the endless drawings and trying to read the text that followed. "He probably hired those guys." He gestured to the stacks. "I'm bettin' he's not even in this mess of posters."

Chris sighed and looked at four documents they had set aside. They now had names for four of the men... knew that they had been wanted and dangerous men. The fifth remained a mystery. It appeared that the fifth was the key to all of this.

Key...Chris fished the ring of keys out of his pocket and threw them on the table. Slim had carried those keys. All six of the men stared at the key-ring. Ezra was still missing and no one had shown up in town inquiring about Grayson, Levitt, Tremaine, Brown or Slim. 

The keys meant something...Chris was sure of that. If Ezra was locked away somewhere...why couldn't he escape? A lock was little hindrance to the skilled con man. Ezra's continued absence troubled him deeply. Was he hurt? Was he dead? Was he totally alone now...locked away and unable to get free? How would they find him?

"Let's try and find the '_living'_ associates of these men," Chris said finally. "Find out if any of them are in custody. Maybe one of 'em knows who these guys were working for, knows who this Slim is."

The five men at the table nodded. It was better than nothing.

****

Part 20:

Blackness...

He waited in the blackness...

Waited for anything... 

For anyone...

For Chris and Vin...God, where were they? Why hadn't they come?

JD...Buck...they _were_ here, weren't they? Were they coming back?

Josiah... and Nathan... please

He waited for Slim even...

For Grayson...

Just anyone...

He waited...

****

Part 21:

Vin slept uneasily. In his mind he replayed the men attacking him...at the wagon...in the alley... the five of them overwhelming him -- he could do nothing to escape. The images changed and he replayed it differently...this time they were coming after Ezra, and Vin was helpless to stop them....Levitt and Grayson and Tremaine and Brown and Slim. 

Vin could only stand aside. He was on patrol, sworn to protect this town and yet he let this happen. He dreamed that he sat placidly on his horse, watching as the five men dragged Ezra from the Redbird. He sat silently and let them take his friend... watched them drag him away until they disappeared into the dark.

He could hear Slim's voice again... Slim's damnable voice..."_You gonna be good or do you want Grayse to knock ya cold? Worked good enough for that friend of yours. Unfortunately he didn't behave and we had to teach him a lesson. He won't be movin' much for a while."_

What had they done to Ezra? Where was he? It all hinged on Slim, Vin knew that. If they could only figure out who the hell Slim was.

Ezra was still held somewhere -- his captors dead now -- Vin was sure of it. Wherever he was, Ezra had no one now. Vin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine what it was like, wherever Ezra was.

He came back with the image of Clem Vaughn's ranchhouse... the cellar to be precise. He remembered how horrible it was to be confined in that dark place and remembered that Ezra had it even worse, being held in that dark pit with the heavy barred door. Vin had peered into that black hole. He remembered the horror that had filled him at seeing it. What a terrible place to be, Vin thought, recalling all of it...with Clem Vaughn taunting them....

Clem Vaughn... the sound of the man's voice returned to him. How he had hated that man while they were held captive. Clem Vaughn, driven mad by the death of his brother Aaron. That voice... Vin could remember it quite clearly. It reminded him... sounded so much like....

Vin sat bolt upright in his wagon. "My God," he muttered, struggling out of his blankets and dropped out of the wagon to the street that was just growing light with sunrise. He ran to the jail, and burst through the door to find a startled Josiah looking at him.

"Brother Vin?" Josiah asked as Vin yanked the keys out of the desk drawer and unlocked the cell where the bodies of the gang had been unceremoniously dumped.

Vin strode past the bodies of Grayson, Levitt, Brown and Tremaine until he came to stand over the remains of Slim. The tracker squinted at the man, trying to find any similarity. There it was...something familiar about the jaw-line, the shape of the nose. He didn't even realize he was panting until Josiah was beside him.

"What's wrong?" Josiah asked, looking at him in concern.

"Vaughn," Vin said, pointing down at the body. "It's gotta be a Vaughn."

Buck suddenly entered the jail, "What's gone on?" he asked, looking to Vin. "I seen ya hustlin' over here."

"You were at the Vaughn Ranch, weren't ya?" Vin demanded. "You and JD? You were there!"

Buck nodded. "We checked it over yesterday."

Vin threw back the cell door and strode over to Buck. "Did you check the pit?"

"I looked in that cellar..." Buck said trailing off.  
  
"The PIT! That goddamn pit!" Vin said, grabbing hold of Buck's shirt and pulling the taller man toward him. "Didja look in that pit in the middle of the cellar?"

Buck opened his mouth and said nothing for a moment then finally voiced, "No."

Vin released him and ran from the jail.

"Shit," Buck muttered and followed.

Vin almost collided with Chris on his way out the door. He nodded brusquely to Larabee before continuing his pace to the livery. Chris looked dumbfounded as Buck ran past him, hot on Vin's heels. He started to follow when Josiah grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Slim is Randall Vaughn," Josiah explained. "The brother of that Clement Vaughn. He'd been making inquiries lately about the ranch."

"Damn," Chris muttered and headed off after the other two.

****

Part 22:

In his dream...he flew.

He was safe and far from this place... far from this lonely dark place... this lonely dark cold stark hard fetid black wretched place. He was high above the world and flying higher. There were bright colors all around him and sunshine and light. 

If he could only fly high enough...far enough... fast enough... he'd be out of here...safe.

Back...fly back...where?

Away...just to fly away...

Familiar places...the scent of a saloon with its whiskey and cheroots... his business...his very own place. His own....his home.

The taste of a fine meal...the softness of a feather bed...

Friendly voices...welcoming...glad to see him...

Familiar faces...people he knew...people he trusted and liked...truly liked. People he looked up to... people he was honored to know... faces he wanted to see again.

If only he could be back there...if only there was a way...flight...

He dreamed of flight. 

****

Part 23:

Vin rode out ahead of the others, pushing Peso to keep up the hectic pace. He could see the ruined remains of the Vaughn Ranch house now, just a few blackened supports left from the once grand home. 

"Ezra!" Vin shouted as he reached the perimeter of the house and looked down into the debris filled basement. His skilled eyes could see where boards had been recently disturbed, muted footprints in the ashes. He leapt down into the open cellar. "Ezra!" he shouted again. He could hear Chris and Buck's horses arriving now. Chris was above him... he could feel this without even turning.

He walked directly to where he remembered the cell had been and grabbed onto the edge of one of the boards that blocked his path. He heard Chris and Buck leap down into the cellar after him and they were suddenly with him, helping to move the boards. A waft of foul air floated up as they lifted the heavy oilcloth to reveal the cell below.

Light flooded into the dark space and a huddled form was revealed in one corner. It took them a minute to realize what exactly it was.

"Ah, Ez." Emotions fought for control. Vin was at once thrilled to have finally found Ezra, but to see him so still and curled up so tightly into that corner, made his heart sink.

Buck yanked at the heavy iron door. He nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket in his attempt to fling back the locked door. "Ezra, hey pard, ya hear me?" He yanked again at the cell as he continued to speak quietly. "We're here now, hoss. Come on and look up here at us. We gotcha. We'll getcha out in a minute." The little heap that was Ezra didn't move at all. 

Buck bit his lip, hoping to see some movement...any kind of movement. Oh, please, don't let him be dead. Wilmington looked to Chris and saw a dark expression form on his friend's face. 

"Step away, Buck," Chris said, pulling his pistol. "Vin, step away. I'll shoot that damn lock off."

"Wait! Wait!" They turned to see JD at the edge of the cellar. He looked as if he were about to leap in, but then he spotted a beam that was laying half in and half out of the basement. He easily used it to get to the cellar floor. "Hold on, Chris!" He yanked something from his pocket and held it over his head. "I got the keys!"

Buck smiled, thankful that the sheriff had thought to bring Slim's keys. "Nathan and Josiah are right behind me with a wagon," JD said as he looked down into the cell. "Ezra?" he called quietly, wrapping his hand around one of the bars. He waited a moment before he looked up to the others. "Ya think he's okay?"

"Open it, JD," Chris ordered. The sheriff nodded quickly and began fitting keys into the lock. The third clicked. Vin and Buck flung the door back, barely giving JD time to get out of the way. They both jumped into the dank prison as the door slammed fully open. Chris considered following, but realized that there was very little room in the cramped place and that JD wouldn't be able to get them back out with any ease if it were necessary.

"How is he?" Chris asked, afraid of the answer. Vin crouched down beside the curled form of their friend. Ezra's head was turned into the corner, keeping his face hidden. His wrists were bound together and his tattered clothing was stained with blood. It was impossible to tell from Chris' position if the man was alive or dead.

Vin could see the slight rise and fall that signaled that the gambler was still breathing. "Ezra," Vin called quietly as he gently touched the man on the shoulder. Ezra jerked at the contact and, curled himself up even tighter. "It's me. It's Vin," Tanner said softly, keeping his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "We're here. It's me and Buck, right here with ya -- Chris and JD too, and Josiah and Nate are on the way."

Buck laid his hand on Ezra's back, hoping to give him some comfort, but instead Wilmington felt Standish flinch under his touch. "It's okay, Ez, we're here now. We just want to getcha out, okay?"

There was no reply.

"We're gonna want to move you now," Vin said. "Is that all right?"

Finally, Ezra took a labored breath and they heard a quiet voice call, "Vin?"

"Yeah," Vin said with a smile, grateful to hear that voice, but sorry to hear it so quiet and weak.

"They get you too?" the hoarse voice sounded so sad. Ezra did not move, didn't even try to look at him. "Sorry...so sorry."

"No, pard, no," Vin replied turning to Buck. "We got those men and they ain't gonna be causin' no more harm to nobody. We came to getcha. Would it be okay if we got you out of here now?"

"Please," was the quiet reply. "Oh, please..."

Buck ducked his head. Ezra's plea nearly broke his heart. "Let us move ya, okay? Don'tcha try doin' it yourself," he said when he found his voice. "We'll getcha outta here in a jiffy."

"Is he okay?" JD called from above, unable to hear Ezra's softly spoken words.

"Buck? JD?" Ezra's voice was full of wonder. "You came back?"

"Yeah," Buck blinked and kept his eyes downward. Oh damn, damn, damn, Buck thought. He knew I was here. Oh shit, he heard me. He heard me come and he heard me leave him. "Soon as I could. Soon as we figured it out."

"I knew it. Knew it... Thank you..." Ezra's voice trailed off and his body relaxed finally. He had apparently fallen unconscious.

Vin and Buck exchanged glances, then averted their eyes from each other. Both could see how Ezra's quiet words had affected the other.

Slowly and carefully, they moved Ezra out of his cramped position. Vin cut the ropes that had bound his hands and ankles. The ropes had dug bloody channels into his wrists. Both had sworn openly when they saw the condition of his face. It looked like someone had used him as a punching bag.

They could hear Chris muttering vehemently above them -- expressing his desire to kill 'Slim' Vaughn all over again. JD had to crane his head and change positions to finally see around Buck and Vin and when he did, he wished that he hadn't. 

"Why?" JD said, turning to Larabee. "Why did they have to go and do that to him?"

Chris met JD's stunned eyes and couldn't answer. Randall Vaughn, like his brother Clement before him, had chosen to take out his anger toward Larabee on his men. Why? Chris had no answer to that. Randall was dead now, had paid his price for this. But now, after seeing what they had done to Standish, Chris figured the price paid wasn't high enough for Vaughn.

Ezra remained unconscious as Buck and Vin carefully straightened him out in the small stone cell. Vin sighed, as he felt along Ezra's arm and realized that the barely mended bone was probably broken again. The gambler seemed to be bruised everywhere and the two men wanted to do nothing to hurt him further. They heard the sound of the approaching wagon and a minute later they looked up to see Josiah and Nathan finally appear above them.

"Good God!" Josiah said as he looked down at them, his face filled with undisguised anguish. "What did they do to him?"

Nathan had leapt down beside Ezra without a word and started doing what he could. 

"He was awake for a bit when we got here," Vin explained. "Think he's out now though."

"They 'bout bruised every inch of 'im," Buck said with disgust. "His arm might be broke up again."

Nathan ran his hands along the arm, feeling along the bone. He watched Ezra's face as he worked, wanting to see a response but getting none. "Yeah," the healer said, "Didn't have a chance to heal enough." 

Buck stood, trying to make some more room in the tight space. Vin stayed beside Ezra, holding his hand while Nathan checked him. "He's cold," Vin said, gently squeezing the chilled hand.

"He's been in here the whole time?" Nathan asked, looking around at the stone walls.

"Looks like it," Vin replied. "There was boards and a big tarp over the top when we found 'im. They weren't lettin' any light in." Vin gazed about the cell and shuddered. He didn't want to think about what it was like to be in here for so long -- the darkness, the close walls, the horrible smell of it. 

Nathan reached out and grabbed a bandana out of Vin's pocket. "Hold his head up a minute, Vin," Nathan said quietly. "His eyes ain't gonna be able to take the light for a while." Nathan grimaced as he tired the blindfold, knowing that it would be pressing against some of those awful bruises.

"Let's get 'im outta here," Nathan said, to everyone's agreement. 

"You and I better change places, Brother Vin," Josiah said to the tracker. "I got a better reach than you." Ezra had to be lifted above their heads to get him to the hands of those above them. A difficult job, but once Vin and Josiah switched places the difficulty disappeared. The preacher may have been able to lift the gambler up to the surface on his own.

Buck, Nathan and Josiah quickly scrambled out of the cell and Ezra was transported out of the cellar and to the wagon. Buck, Vin and JD collected the hay and straw that remained in the barn and padded the wagon-bed with it. Ezra was carefully settled into the makeshift bed and the group of lawmen started toward home. Josiah kept the wagon at a slow pace, trying to keep the jostling to a minimum. There was no rush now. They only needed to bring Ezra home.

****

Part 24:

Buck rode alongside Vin, his attention on the back of the wagon where Nathan and Chris aided their injured friend. JD followed close behind, leading Chris' horse.

Wilmington turned slowly to the tracker, whose eyes did not move from the wagon, from where Nathan was splinting Ezra's arm. The tracker's face easily showed the anxiety and sorrow that he felt, but when Vin turned to Buck, Wilmington saw the expression change to a look of thinly disguised hostility.

Buck knew the reason. "I am so sorry, Vin," he said quietly. "God, I'm sorry."

"Ain't me you should be sorry to," Vin replied. "Ain't me you missed this time."

Buck grimaced and bowed his head. "I feel like shit, Vin. You gotta know that."

"Why didn't you look? Why didn't you take five minutes and look!" Vin jerked Peso to a stop and glared at Wilmington. The normally soft-spoken tracker raised his voice at the ladies-man. "God, Buck, you knew it was there! You fuckin' knew that cell was there and didn't bother to look. You left him! Shit, you could've gotten 'im out of there a whole day ago. He's been in that fuckin' pit, all by himself for almost a week now and you gave him one extra day!"

"I'd do anything...anything, Vin, to fix this. If I could just go back...If I could just...."

The tracker cut him off. "Yeah, but you didn't. Why, Buck, why?" 

"I don't know." Buck watched as the wagon continued it's slow progress. He saw Chris glance up at him, and then return his attention to Ezra. The concern etched into the gunslinger's face was evident, even as he moved further away. "I just didn't."

"Not good enough!' Vin barked at him.

JD came even with the other two men, his face sullen. "It was me too, Vin." The young man said. "I didn't think of it either. We could see into the cellar. Didn't see him there. We couldn't tell that anyone had been in it."

"I could tell," Vin said pounding on his chest.

"We just don't got your skill in that department," Buck said softly.

"Doesn't matter!" Vin flung out his arms. "All you had to do was LOOK! Didja see what they did to him? See how bad he was hurt? And you just LEFT him there to suffer on his own. Left him in that cell. What kind of bastard are you?" Vin saw the effect his words had on Wilmington, and instantly he regretted it. Buck looked as if he had been slapped.

Vin's gaze shifted suddenly from Wilmington when he heard Dunne utter a muffled sob.

JD was trying to cover his face, to hide any sign of such childish weakness. "It's our fault, Buck," JD muttered. "It's all our fault, ain't it? I was just scared is all. I was just rememberin' what happened last time, when you and Ez were... were in there... and... almost burned..." The young sheriff trailed off and then turned his back on them as he tried to gain his composure. "All I wanted was to not be there. To not think on what had happened last time. I should'a thought to look. I should'a. Oh God, it's all my fault."

Buck sighed. "Not your fault, Kid. Mine." He turned to Vin. "My fault."

Vin looked at his two friends. Buck's face was etched with a deep regret. He could see the sorrow there, the incredible sorrow, could see the weight of the blame that was now placed there. JD continued to keep his back to them, his hand over his face. The tracker felt a wave of shame and guilt cross over him.

"No, Buck," Vin admitted. "It was me."

"You?" Buck responded.

"I was the one 'sposed to be watchin' the town that night. It was me that should'a stopped it all at the beginnin'. Never should'a let it happen in the first place."

"Ya can't be everywhere at once," Buck said thoughtfully. 

"Should'a been there to help 'im. I'm s'posed to be his friend and was s'posed to be watchin' for trouble. Ya think I could'a just been there to help 'im when he really needed a hand."

"Ain't nothin' you can do for that now," Buck said. "And I screwed up. I screwed up mighty bad when I just left 'im here."

Buck and Vin turned their attention back to the wagon that continued to move on toward Four Corners. "We found 'im though," Vin said.

"Yeah," Buck replied.

"It'll be okay now."

"Yeah."

Vin turned to JD, whose shoulders were heaving slightly in an attempted to stifle his sobs. "Sorry, JD," Vin said. "Not your fault what happened. Not your fault, Buck. I let my mouth run off for a bit. You done none of this. I jus' needed someone to yell at and I took you for the target."

"Should'a thought to look," JD said quietly.

"Too late for that now," Vin said softly. "Don't matter. We got 'im. We just gotta make sure he's okay now."

****

Part 25:

Chris solemnly helped hold Ezra upright as Nathan bound up his ribs. Jackson assured Larabee that three ribs were cracked, but not broken. Ezra didn't respond as Nathan put a splint on the re-broken arm and then bound it to his chest.

"I'd put the arm in a sling, but he may be wakin' up, sudden-like. I don't want 'im flailin' the arm around," Nathan explained as they settled Ezra back into the straw.

Chris looked up to see Vin pull to a halt behind them. The tracker's face red with rage. Buck stopped beside him -- looking sheepish and sad; JD lingered a few paces back, his gaze on the ground. Larabee realized that he wouldn't have to confront Buck and JD regarding their error in judgement -- that Tanner was taking care of that at this moment. He hoped that it didn't come to blows.

The gunslinger thought about the friendship that had developed between Vin and Ezra -- how close the two had become. There had been a time when Chris had thought the two would never see eye-to-eye on anything. They were just too wildly dissimilar. Ezra, with is love for the plush life, smart-ass, city-boy, con artist and gambler. Vin, with his quiet nature and love of the outdoors, Indian-expert, bounty-hunter and sharp-shooter. The two, at first observation, were as different as night and day.

As time passed, Chris realized that Tanner and Standish were more alike than not. Both were loaners, and intensely private -- yet able to appear easy going. They were extremely perceptive, endlessly clever and capable of seeing though a façade. 

Vin had been more open to friendship at the start -- easily fitting into the group and becoming close to Larabee almost instantly. Ezra had been an outsider among them for so long, that it had become comfortable for all of them. Chris suspected that Ezra just never felt safe in a friendship -- always figured that it would go somehow awry.

Like now, Chris thought glumly, watching Nathan work at cleaning the reddened wounds, the scrapes and scratches that seemed to appear almost everywhere on Standish.

They had found a canister of kerosene in that cellar. It had become obvious to Chris what Randall Vaughn had in mind...to finish up what his brother had started and kill both Ezra and Vin...burn them up as Clem had tried to do not so many months ago.

All because of what Chris had done... because Chris had killed Aaron Vaughn. He reached out and lay his hand on Ezra's. No response. Standish was so bruised, his face so swollen. It was a wonder he was breathing at all or that he had been able to recognize voices. The hand was cold. Chris picked up Ezra's hand and tried to massage some warmth back into it, mindful of his torn wrist.

"He gonna be okay?" Chris asked quietly as Nathan pulled a blanket up over Ezra.

"The bruises should heal, okay," Nathan replied. "Bones will set in time. Gotta get the chill outta him. Looks like they stomped on his legs a bit. Not broke -- but in pretty bad shape. It's gonna be a while before he's walkin' again." Jackson sighed and ran the back of his hand along his forehead. "He's got a mighty bad concussion though."

"Will he be okay when he wakes up?"

"Dunno," Nathan replied, and then after a minute admitted, "I can't even say if he'll wake up again."

Chris groaned and rubbed his head. "If he does ...will he..." Chris trailed off and started again. "Will he be all right? I mean, do you think his head's okay?" Larabee couldn't bear to think of Ezra as damaged mentally. Couldn't bear to think of how affected Ezra would be without his cleverness and his intelligence. It would better if he were to never wake up at all.

"I just don't know," Nathan whispered, placing another blanket over the chilled gambler.

****

Part 26:

The trip back to town was slow. It was afternoon by the time they pulled the wagon up in front of Nathan's clinic. Josiah quickly jumped down from the seat, and rounded the back of the wagon. Nathan had intended to help carry the southerner up the stairs, but Josiah easily lifted Ezra and held the injured man protectively to his chest. Ezra was as limp as a doll, his legs dangling over Josiah's arm and head resting against his shoulder.

"Ya got 'im okay, Josiah?" Vin asked as he secured his horse to the hitching post.

The big man nodded. His sad face looked down on their battered friend. "Don't fret, Brother Vin, he's as safe as houses now. Safe among his friends... finally."

Chris turned his head, watching the people of the town who started gathering about the wagon, muttering and jostling to get a better view of what was going on. They were pointing and gasping and the murmur grew louder. Larabee caught site of Mary near the back of the crowd and heard her try to divert the people away. Inez and Joe appeared outside of the Redbird and began persuading the crowd into the saloon.

"Let's get 'im out of the street," Chris said.

Nathan headed up the stairs to the clinic with Josiah directly behind him. Chris followed, keeping his hand on the preacher's back in case he lost his balance with his quiet burden. Of course, Chris realized that he'd be able to do little to impede the fall of the big man, but if nothing else, his touch might help ease the pain he saw in Josiah's face.

"He's lost weight," Josiah said sullenly once they reached the door. 

Nathan shook his head ruefully and pushed open the door. "I don't think they feed him much at all. May not 'ave given 'im anything," he sighed. "Didn't give 'im enough to drink either. He's dehydrated. This past day didn't help much."

JD and Buck stood up when the others entered. They had ridden ahead to ensure that the clinic was ready. The wood stove was already hot and the kettle rattled on the burner. A bucket of cold well-water sat beside the bed.

"How's he doin'?" JD asked.  
  
"Hasn't stirred yet," Nathan replied. The blankets had already been pulled back on the bed, so Josiah carefully set Ezra down on the readied surface. Nathan held the gambler's shoulder's to settle him onto the pillows. Slowly, Ezra was starting to move, turning his head and trying to twist out of Jackson's grip.

Ezra moaned and brought his unencumbered hand up, as if to ward off a blow. "No...no..." he murmured. 

"Shhhh," Nathan said quietly. "It's okay, Ezra, it's just me."

Ezra didn't seem to hear the healer, and began to struggle against him and Josiah. "No... no... no more..." He tried to roll onto his side, tried to curl himself into a ball. "Please, no more..."

"It's okay, Ezra, It's me... it's Nate." Nathan increased his grip on Standish, but Ezra, feeling someone pressing down on him, thrashed against the force. 

Josiah tried to hold Standish still, but a leg suddenly lashed out, catching him in the stomach. With an "Ooof!", Josiah lurched backward, tripping over JD and sending both of them to the floor. 

"NO!" Ezra said with surprising intensity. He moved his head, trying to find where his tormenters were, but his eyes were still covered, blinding him. He lashed out again with his feet. 

"Ezra, damn it!" Chris cried, having just barely escaping a kick and colliding into Buck.

Buck stepped back quickly, and found himself sprawled on the floor as he came in contact with the still downed JD. "Dang it, JD!" Buck said, cuffing the kid. "Get up off of the floor!" JD readily complied, using Buck's shoulder for support.

Vin pushed past Nathan as Buck and Josiah scrambled to their feet. The tracker came up behind Ezra where he would be safe (hopefully) from the gambler's lashing feet. He knew that Standish was adept at using his them in a fight. And even in the cardsharp's current incapacitated state, Tanner knew those feet could inflict injury.

"Easy, Ezra," he said softly, "It's me, Vin..." He didn't touch Ezra.

"No more," Ezra quietly voiced, stopping his frantic movements.

"No more," Vin agreed. "I promise... no more, okay. We gotcha now. It's okay."

Ezra breathed deeply, listening. "Vin?" 

"Yeah, it's me," Vin lay his hand as gently and as slowly as he could on Ezra's shoulder, but he still felt the man flinch away from him, trying to roll himself into a ball. "It's just me."

"Dark."

"I know, I know," Vin looked up to Nathan. "Gotta keep it that way for a bit, Ez. I'm sorry."

"Try to get him to drink some of this," Nathan said, pressing a cup into Vin's hand. "It's got some laudanum in it."

"Ya want some water, pard?" Vin asked softly. 

"Water?"

"Yeah. Think you can drink some?"

Ezra seemed to consider this for a moment and answered, "Yes."

Josiah helped sit Ezra up, even though the gambler jerked away from him at every touch. Josiah's despair in Ezra's reactions was easy for everyone to see. 

"It's me, son," Josiah said soothingly. "It's Josiah." Ezra turned his head toward the preacher, but Josiah wasn't sure if the gambler understood him.

Vin was only able to get Ezra to sip at the cup before Standish shoved against the tracker and averted his face.

"Come on, Ez," Vin sighed. "Ya gotta drink some of this."

"Foul," Ezra uttered, trying to pull his head further away, trying to get out of the grip that held him upright.

"Nate's put some laudanum in it," Vin explained. "It'll make it so it don't hurt so much. It'll be good for the pain, ya know."  
  
"Know..." Ezra said softly.

Vin, misunderstanding, said, "Come on, Ez. Don't say 'no'. It'll help."

Ezra licked his bruised lips and stated, "Know. I know what laud...a...num is for. Not stupid." The words came out slurred.

Vin smiled, glad to hear that quiet sarcasm, glad to hear more than one word at a time. "Well, then, if ya ain't stupid then ya know what's good for you. Just drink what's here in this cup. It ain't very much. Don't want you to get sick on it."

Ezra sighed, keeping his head turned away. "Don't want to get sick..."

"Just a little then," Vin bargained. "Then we'll letcha be."

Ezra nodded once and Vin was able to get him to drink the entire contents of the small cup. Ezra's free hand rested on Vin's arm, gripping him tightly, until he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Josiah lay Ezra back carefully, murmuring soft assurances as he did, and Nathan filled the basin with cold water from the bucket. The healer carefully wet down a cloth with the water and lay it over Ezra's bound and bruised eyes, hoping to bring down some of the swelling. 

"He gonna be alright?" Buck asked tentatively. 

Nathan sighed as he tended to Standish. He grabbed the boiling water from the stove and poured the sterilized water into a second basin. He used it to wipe away the blood from the dozens of scrapes. He'd have to use whiskey next to knock down the infection, but at the moment he just wanted to get Ezra cleaned up. It wasn't as bad as it could be. Ezra didn't appear to have a fever; he was more chilled than anything. 

Finally, after a minute the healer responded. "We should keep a watch on 'im."

"Make sure he doesn't wake up alone," Chris added.

****

Part 27:

Buck walked slowly back and forth across the dim room, trying to keep his tread quiet and not wake the man who was trying to sleep. Wilmington kept his eyes on Ezra, who tossed in the bed, muttering and raising his good arm from time to time. At least Ezra had stopped trying to curl up into the tiniest shape he could. Somewhere in Ezra's mind, he must have found the need to be comfortable outweighed the need for protection.

Buck paced, annoyed that he could do nothing else at this point. He had tried talking to the restless man earlier, but Ezra had not responded to his voice. Nathan had been here all evening, doing what he could. Once Ezra was bandaged and settled, there was little more that could be done. Chris had made the healer promise to take a supper and then go get some shut-eye. 

They had been able to get some more water into him once during the day. The laudanum-laced liquid had let Standish ease into a sleep that he hadn't returned from yet. Nathan had piled the bed with blankets, hoping to warm Ezra up a bit, and it seemed to be doing the trick. So far, there had been no sign of fever, for which everyone was grateful.

But, for the past hour now, Ezra had tossed -- murmuring incomprehensibly. From time to time, Buck thought he understood a word or two. But some of it seemed to be French or Latin or whatever the hell other languages the cardsharp spoke. 

Ezra continued to raise his hand, sometimes resting it on his head for a moment, only to pull it back sharply and sigh. Buck had checked him for signs of fever earlier, careful not to awaken Ezra in the process. Wilmington knew that the last time Ezra awoke, he was just as confused as before -- ready to lash out at anyone who came near him. Somehow, even blindfolded, Ezra knew where they were and had been able to hit a target more than once. Buck rubbed his thigh at the memory.

Ezra's mutterings became louder, still impossible to penetrate and his movements became more aggressive. Buck stood and said softly, "It's okay, Ez... it's okay," not knowing what more to do. He didn't want to come in contact with him at this moment...knowing how Ezra had responded to that.

Suddenly, Ezra's hand was back to his head. With a quick movement, he snagged his thumb under the blindfold and pulled it off, flinging it to the far corner of the room. For a second, Buck could see Ezra blinking in the dimness, but Standish squeezed his eyes shut and kept them closed. 

"Ezra," Buck said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room to retrieve the bandana. "You gotta keep this on ya. Your eyes ain't ready for the light yet."

He strode slowly back to the bed and stopped. Ezra was no longer tossing, but seemed to have finally fallen into a more comfortable sleep. The gambler sighed deeply and relaxed.

Buck shrugged and shoved the bandana into his pocket. "Couldn't see myself puttin' it back on ya in any case," Buck said, as he turned down the lantern on the table. "Its time you got outta that dark place."

****

Part 28:

JD sat beside the bed in the dim room, watching Ezra sleep. He had taken over for Buck after midnight. When the young sheriff had entered the room, he'd first noticed that only one lantern burned, and was set about as low as the thing could be without being turned out. Then JD had asked pointedly why Ezra was no longer wearing the blindfold. Nathan had demanded that they leave it in place.

Buck had just shrugged and said, "He didn't want to wear it any more." Wilmington had left, after giving JD a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. "He's gonna be okay, JD."

The young sheriff had nodded and tried to look as if he believed it.

Dunne had been sitting the past two hours, watching and waiting in the dim room. "Gee, I'm sorry, Ez," he said, rubbing his hands along his knees. "I'm so damn sorry." He hated to see his friend so badly beaten. Ezra always treated him with respect -- didn't mollycoddle him as the others sometimes did. Perhaps because Ezra had grown up rather quickly was the reason that he always treated JD as an adult. The gambler was quick with a smile, loved a good joke or a good game. He had a way of lightening the mood of even the tensest situations and tried to find a way around violence. Ezra felt that words could solve problems far more efficiently than bullets or fists. Why did such horrible things always have to happen to him? He didn't deserve it...no, not on any account.

"Sorry, Ez," JD said again.  
  
JD's eyes lifted as he saw Ezra start to stir in his bed. The gambler had been quiet up until this point. Ezra moved his good arm slowly and seemed to realize that his left arm had been bound against him. Standish blinked in the dimness and suddenly tried to get his broken arm free, jerking at the bindings.

The young sheriff jumped to his feet and shouted, "No! Stop it!" He couldn't let Ezra hurt himself further. Ezra turned a startled glance toward him. Quick as a cat -- too quick for JD to have believed possible -- Ezra flung himself out from under the covers and disappeared around the far side of the bed.

"Ezra!" JD cried. He hurried the few feet to the bed and rounded the foot of it and was astonished to find no trace of the con man. "Ezra?" JD said, softer. He looked down at the bed and got down on his hands and knees. "Hey, Ez?" 

The young man lifted the edge of the blanket and peered into the darkness under the bed. "You down here?" Where else could he have gone? JD reached out slowly, it was as if he were groping his way into a lion's den. His hand glanced across what must have been Ezra's leg and he felt the leg pull away from him as Ezra scuttled away, further under the bed.

"It's okay, Ez," JD whispered. "It's only me. It's JD," Dunne steeled himself and slid his head under the bed. He remembered how Ezra had kicked out at the others earlier. If Standish were to try it now, JD figured he'd end up with a broken nose at least. "It's just JD."

"JD?" he heard Ezra's querulous voice. "What're you doin' here?" His words had a 'fuzzy' quality to them, his mouth too damaged to form the words to their usual perfection.

"Just followin' you is all," JD said lightly. It was too dark too see. JD figured that Ezra must have been pressed into the space under the head of the bed.

"They got you too? They got you? You hurt?" Ezra said, his voice cracking.

"No," JD assured, "No, Ez, no....they're gone. You're not there no more. We're not there no more. Remember? We came and gotcha."

"Where?" Ezra asked quietly. "Where are we? It's dark."

"We're at Nathan's is all. Got the lights turned down a bit."  
  
"Oh." He was silent for a moment and then said with a note of confusion, "Where, exactly, in Nathan's?"

JD had to laugh at the tone. "We're under the bed."

"What're we doin' there?"

"Hell if I know," JD smiled, glad to hear that Ezra at least sounded reasonable. "It was your idea." JD forced himself further under the bed and said, "You come on out of there, okay? Come on, I'll give you a hand. We'll getcha comfortable up there again. It'll be better."

"No," Ezra replied softly.

"It's okay," JD continued. "I'll getcha back up there. Won't no one else have to know." He reached forward and touched Ezra's hand. Standish didn't jerk away this time.

"Too tired," Ezra responded. "Just want to sleep. Safer here."

JD sighed. "It okay if I stay down here with you?"

There was a slight pause before Ezra replied, "You may."

Ezra was quiet after that, so JD thought he had fallen asleep. When Dunne made a move to get out from under the bed, the hand that had lain lax beneath his suddenly went into motion and grabbed him forcefully by the wrist.

"Don't go," the simple request.

"S'okay, Ez," JD said, startled by the movement. "I just want to get a pillow 'cause it's kinda hard here on the floor. You want one too?"

"Yes... please," Ezra said as he slowly released JD's arm. JD shuffled out from beneath the bed and returned as soon as he was able to lay his hands on the bed's pillows and blankets.   
  
He helped Ezra with the bedding and shortly afterward, Dunne was certain that Ezra had fallen asleep, crammed up against the wall, tucked under the head of the bed. JD sighed and lay his head on his pillow, resting his hand on top of Ezra's until they both were asleep.

__

**Part 29:**

Nathan and Chris headed to the clinic at first light. Nathan yawned and stretched. Yesterday had been a long day, following a long week. He hoped that Ezra was doing better today. Standish had looked like hell when they found him. Nathan didn't want to say much about it, but he was very concerned about the cardsharp. It had been a relief that Ezra had come to in the clinic and had had the strength to fight them. Jackson just hoped that Ezra was more coherent today. The healer remembered his own bruised shin and hoped he didn't have to go through wrestling with the man again.

JD hadn't come to get him during the night, so Standish must have slept well enough. That was a good sign. Nathan rubbed the back of his neck as Chris pushed the door to the clinic open. Jackson didn't see Larabee come to a sudden stop and collided into him with a startled cry.

"Hey!" Nathan said, and then followed Chris' gaze into the clinic. The two men looked into the room in amazement. The room was empty. Ezra was gone and so was JD. "Son of a bitch," Chris said under his breath.

"What?" Nathan looked about the dim room in disbelief. "Where could they..? Why?"  
  
"Get Buck, Vin and Josiah. Damn it! We'll start searching for them ..."

"Shhh!"

The shush startled both of them and they looked for the source, surprised to see JD's head suddenly appear from beneath the stripped bed.

"JD?" Chris said. 

"We're down here," JD whispered. "He's asleep still."

Chris and Nathan made their way to the bed and crouched down to peer under it. Chris turned his gaze on the young sheriff. "What the hell do you think you're doin?"

"It was his idea," JD said, nodding to the sleeping form under the head of the bed. It was dark, but Chris could just barely make out Ezra, against the wall and all balled up in a blanket. His good hand was outstretched and clasped by JD. 

"Damn it, JD," Chris growled in disbelief. Sure, Ezra had a pillow under his head, but God, the last place he should be was on a hard floor. 

"How's he doin', JD?" Nathan asked quietly.

"He's been sleepin' most the night," JD responded. "Doin' pretty good."  
  
"'Cept for the fact that he's _under a bed_!" Chris hissed indignantly. 

Nathan sighed. "He probably feels safer under there," he said to Chris. "He likes small places."

"I find it hard to believe he'd be seekin' out small places after what happened to 'im."

"Well, there's one big difference here," Nathan said, "he chose this small place."

"We can't leave him there," Chris demanded.   
  
"I don't think we should try to pull 'im out though," Nathan said thoughtfully. "Don't know how he'd react to someone tuggin' on 'im." Jackson's hand grazed his own bruised shin. "Might not like it."

"I _will not_ leave him under there," Chris said defiantly. "Damn it, Nathan!" The gunslinger stood and stalked away from the bed and turned back to glare at it. 

"He's had a pretty bad concussion, Chris," Nate said. "He's confused."

"What if we lift the bed off of him?" Chris said. "Then we get his ass off the floor and try to figure out what the hell's goin' on."

Nathan nodded and said, "I'll go get Josiah and the others." He peered in at Ezra again and then looked back at JD. "What happened to the bandana? I thought I told you boys..."

JD shook his head. "Dunno. That happened while Buck was here. This," he nodded to the bed above him, "this one's mine."

Nathan shook his head and then hurried out of the room. The gunslinger brought his glance back to JD, who still lay with his head sticking out from under that damn bed. 

"He's okay," JD said assuredly. "It's my fault really. I startled 'im and he was too tired to come back out. He'll be okay once we get 'im out again." And then the young man slipped back under the bed to keep an eye on his charge.

Nathan returned in a few minutes with the others. The three of them looked rather puzzled about the current situation.

Buck and Vin crouched down and peeked under the bed. "Son of a gun," Buck said. "How'd he get down there?"  
  
"He was perty fast," JD said, careful to keep his voice low. "I startled 'im and he wanted to get to someplace protected."

Vin frowned and said, "You keep an eye on 'im, JD. Don't let him get startled no more."

JD nodded and said, "You can bet on it."  
  
"Wait a minute," Nathan said, grabbing a blanket from the shelf and handing it to Josiah. "Cover the windows up. It's too bright in here for him if he wakes up. His eyes ain't ready yet."

Josiah complied, darkening the room. The blankets allowed enough light to enter the room to see what they were doing, but dimmed the area considerably. The men then moved into position around the bed. JD was left where he was and the other five carefully lifted the bed up and over the two of them. The young sheriff placed his hand on the sleeping man's head, to ensure he didn't wake suddenly and try to sit up while the bed was in motion over them. It was only once the bed had been settled again in a new position that Ezra opened his eyes and blinked at JD in confusion.

"Mr. Dunne," he said softly,"Can you explain to me why we're on the floor?" He pulled his hand out of JD's grasp and then looked up see JD's hand on him. Ezra affected a glare that reminded JD it was time to remove the offending appendage.

"We were just sleepin'," JD said as he got to his feet.

Ezra turned his gaze to the others in the room as well. He thought it was odd that they all looked so damned happy, especially considering his current situation and... discomfort. "What just happened here?" he asked, perplexed, trying to get himself straightened out, but stopping quickly, with a groan.

"Ya damn fool," Buck said, squatting down beside the gambler. "Ya got yourself all worked up and done tried to hide yerself real fine." God, Buck thought, it's good to hear him talking sensibly. Standish still looked awful, but at least he was awake and apparently alert.

"How ya feelin', Ezra?" Chris asked.

Larabee received a grimace for a reply and, "Miserable."

Nathan said, "Well the fact that you're able to answer at all is a might fine thing." He nodded to the preacher. "Josiah, ya think you could give me a hand in getting' 'im back in bed."

Ezra waved Josiah away. "I am quite capable," he said as he tried to push himself upright, but he started shaking so badly it was soon obvious, even to himself, that he would not be able to follow through.  
  
"Come on, Brother Ezra," Josiah rumbled, "Let me help." Ezra pulled away from him as Josiah drew near him, but allowed Sanchez to lift him and then set him down in the bed. 

Ezra looked puzzled for a moment and asked, "Why'd you move the bed?"

"Thought you'd like it better over here," Nathan said as he picked up the pillows from the floor and fluffed them up. Josiah helped sit Ezra up so that Nathan could get them under his head. Jackson took the opportunity to get a close look at the cardsharp. Ezra still flinched away from Josiah, and when he realized that Nathan was looming over him, he pulled away from the healer.

"How's that?" the healer asked, trying to ignore Ezra's reaction.

"A tremendous improvement," Ezra replied with a sigh. "Leagues beyond my previous condition. I must thank you all, emphatically, for my extrication."

"Your what?" JD asked.

"For freeing me," Ezra offered. "From an unfortunate circumstance."

"It must have been perty bad there," JD said, looking down at his feet.

Ezra did not answer immediately. He fretted with the bindings on his arm for a moment and then answered, "It was not agreeable." 

"What was it like?" JD asked and received deadly glares from the other men.

"Dark," Ezra replied. "Mostly dark..." he turned his head slowly and seemed puzzled by he sight of the blanketed windows. "And cold and quiet and far away." He turned his gaze back to JD, his voice sounding as distant as the words he chose. "Very far away."

"Sure as hell glad to have you back," Buck put in, trying to distract Ezra away from his thoughts. 

"It is a pleasure to be back," Ezra conceded and smiled as much as his bruised face would allow.

"I just need you to know that," Chris said. "We all did whatever we could to find you."  
  
"We were plenty anxious to see your return," Josiah added.

"We looked for ya, Ez," Vin said. "I cain't tell ya how hard we looked. We looked pretty much everyday...everywhere."

Buck sank down beside the bed and pulled off his hat. He grasped it in his hands as he said. "I'm sure as hell sorry, Ezra."

Ezra blinked at him. "Why should you be sorry, Mr. Wilmington?"  
  
"I was there..." he trailed off, looking up to Vin. "I was at the ranch and I dinnent even think to check... hell, ah hell, Ezra... I let it happen again. I jus' left ya there...again. I sure as shit should'a known better this time. "

JD stepped up beside Buck. "Me too, Ezra. We was both there. We was both at the Vaughn Ranch and we dinnent think to check in that pit. We let it happen once and we gone and done it again." JD kept his eyes on the ground. "Geez, Ezra, we done left you there. We could'a gotten you out a whole day sooner if we had only thought to look."

Chris glared at the two, ready to cut them off. Ezra wasn't up to this right now.

"But you were there," Ezra said, squinting between them. "I remember you were there to free me."

"Yeah, we came. We was there, but...we jus' dinnent think to look when we was there earlier. I'm just awful sorry 'bout it." Buck sighed deeply. God, if he could take back a day... if he could go back in time, he would have gone on into that cellar instead of avoid it as he had. Why didn't he think of it? Why did he have to go and make the same mistake twice?

"But I remember..." Ezra said. "You came and got me out. I remember." His voice was growing softer now. 

"And I'm the one who let you into the mess in the first place," Vin put in. "I was s'pose to be keepin' a watch on the town. I didn't stop those men from takin' ya."

"And they would have had you too," Ezra replied. "I remember. You were there too -- freed me. Thank you." Ezra closed his eyes, weary from the effort of talking.

****

Part 30:

__

"I will seek it out and find it!" Vin carefully read. He sat hunched over the book, his forehead scrunched as he puzzled over the words, pronouncing them each slowly_. "But where was it to be found? The gentleman-in-waiting ran upstairs and downstairs."_ Those were long words, he thought. He was glad that he had been able to sound them out and make sense of them. He had to work on the word 'found' a bit, but managed it. _"And in and out of all the rooms and corry...corry-doors."_ He looked up and asked, "Corry-doors?"

"Corridors...it's another way of saying _'hallway'_," Ezra answered, nestled in pillows with his eyes shut.

Vin nodded and continued. _"No one of all those he met had ever heard anything about the nightingale." _He still stumbled over that word, even though he had come across it several times before in the story. The silent _'gh'_ always bothered him. There seemed no point to it. A silent _'e'_ he could understand, because it had a purpose...but the '_gh'_? Why bother?

__

"So the gentleman-in-waiting ran back to the emperor and said that it must be a my-eth." Vin frowned. He had dealt with 'emperor' earlier and knew what that was...here was a new one. "My-eth?"

Ezra sighed and said quietly, "I'm as befuddled as you... perhaps you could spell it."

"M..Y..T..H."

After a moment Ezra opened his eyes and replied, "Myth. An untruth...a story, often a legend of some sort. Believed by some...discounted by most." 

"Like stories about Paul Bunyon?" Vin asked. "That giant lumberjack and his blue ox?"

"Exactly," Ezra replied.

"I heard that the fellas needed to strap sides of bacon onto the bottoms of their feet and use them as skates. That's how they greased the griddle that made Bunyon's flapjacks." Vin chuckled and said, "Imagine that!"

"The exact definition of mythic proportions." Ezra turned toward the covered window. He saw the shadow of a bird pass over the shaded opening and heard the confused flutter as the bird adjusted its path. The shadow was there for only a moment, but Standish continued to gaze where it had been.

"Yeah." Vin nodded and continued at his usual labored pace. _"It must be a myth, invented by writers of the book. 'Your im-pee-ree-al...ma-jah-est-ee...'." _Vin sighed in frustration -- more big words that he had never seen before. "Imp-ear-e-al Mah-je-stay." The tracker shook his head. "Don't know these words, Ez." He glanced up when Ezra didn't respond. "Ez?"

"Yes, of course," Ezra turned away from the place where the bird had been. "You were saying?"

Vin regarded his friend for a moment. "Ya wanna stop for a bit? Get some more sleep?" Nathan had said that Ezra needed rest still. The gambler looked tired and thin. His bruises were livid against his pale skin, and his unshaven face added to the strangeness. He had no energy and seemed so distant most of the time. Nathan hadn't been able to get him to eat anything yet. Ezra complained that his stomach wasn't up to it and would try later. "We could start up again after ya take a cat-nap or somethin'."

The book had been Vin's idea. Tanner had borrowed it from Billy Travis -- the boy had said that the book had some good stories in it. The name of the author, Hans Christian Andersen, certainly sounded important. At least, with the stories, it gave Vin something to do while he sat with Ezra -- and it gave the unnaturally quiet gambler a requirement to respond to him.

Vin had been continuing his reading lessons under Mary Travis' tutelage, but he still remembered the time that he and Ezra had spent with that book about South America. He remembered how reading the book made time fly by as the two of them were held captive by Clem Vaughn. Tanner hoped that this current attempt at reading aloud wasn't reminding Ezra of that pit that he had just escaped from. 

"Ez?" Vin questioned when Standish didn't respond to his question. "Ez?"

"Forgive me. I'm afraid that my mind was wandering," Ezra explained.

Vin turned the book over to save his place and said, "You were thinkin' of that cell? Is this reminding you of it"

"No, this is not reminding me. Nothing in particular does. It's simply difficult to forget," Ezra replied. "But I shall in time be able to put it aside. It's not your concern."  
  
"Damn it, Ez," Vin sighed. "'Course it's my concern."

Ezra blinked at him and said. "Truly, Mr. Tanner, it's something for me to deal with on my own."

"Ya know that ain't the case, Ez."

"I was there alone and thus must come to grips with it on my own."

Vin sighed deeply. "I wish it weren't like that. You know I would'a changed it if I could."

"Mr. Larabee told me of your self-less actions," Ezra said matter-of-factly. "Of how you allowed Mr. Vaughn and his associates to attack you in hopes that you would be brought to where I was being kept."

"Just wanted to find you..." Vin said, fingering the spine of the book.

'Your actions weren't wise."

"Yeah, I s'pect yer right."

"If anything had happened to you, Mr. Tanner, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I won't have you sacrificing yourself on my behalf. Mr. Larabee would never forgive me."

"Hell, Ezra," Vin moaned. "Chris was as worried as any of us about ya. Ya think he didn't want to get ya back?"

"I wouldn't have it at your expense." Ezra turned from Vin and gazed at the far wall.

"Well, you didn't have much of a say in the matter," Vin grumbled. "Damn, you can be such a pig-headed son-of-a-bitch, ya know?"

"True," Ezra agreed.  
  
"Cain't ya just accept the fact that we was all as worried as hell about you and were doin' whatever we could to find ya and getcha back home with us?"

Ezra was silent for a moment, blinking at the wall in the too-strong light. "Sometimes, it's difficult. I suppose that I'm ...unused to such ministrations."

"Yeah, well, you'd better get used to 'em... ministrations or whatever." Vin sighed, as Ezra continued to stare at the wall. Okay then, he thought. I can be as stubborn as he is. Vin stood and crossed the room until he was standing in front of Ezra. "Ya gotta remember that ya got friends here, Ez," Vin said, ducking to get in line with Ezra's gaze. He smiled when the eye focused on him. "Yer not alone here. Ya know, if you ever want to say a thing or so about somethin' you can say 'em to me."

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said softly. "I'll try to remember."

"I sure as hell hope so," Vin declared and strode back to his chair, glancing at the regulator clock as he passed it.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be, Mr. Tanner? I don't want to keep you from it."

"Yeah, but don't need to go quite yet. Gotta wait for Nate in any case."

"Don't be late on my account."

Vin sighed and pointed to the book. "Ya want to hear more of this, ya stubborn southern pain-in-the-ass?" 

"Imperial Majesty..." Ezra said.

Vin snorted.

"Imperial Majesty," Ezra repeated, "Is a manner of addressing an emperor."

"Huh?" Vin picked up the book and found his place. "Oh, yeah...okay _'Your Imperial Majesty must not believe everything that is written; book are often me-re_...ah...mire?"

"Mere? It means only."

"Okay then..._'books are often mere invention"..." _Vin smiled, remembering that t.i.on. was pronounced _shun._

**Part 31:**

Chris sat with one arm propped up on his knee, his head resting on that hand. He watched as Nathan tried to feed Ezra some soup. 

"I'm not a child," Ezra muttered, turning his head.

"Ya ain't eaten for a week; ya got one bum arm and you can hardly move a'tall," Nathan replied. "Jus hol' still and let me get some of this here food into ya."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "You paint such a lovely picture, Mr. Jackson. If I ever have the good fortune to entertain friends and neighbors at a dinner party, the invitations are sure to request the guests attend to _'get some of this here_ _food into ya'_." 

"This ain't no dinner party, Ez," Nathan growled.

"You speak the obvious. This is hardly an apt meal for any occasion."  
  
"Ezra," Nathan grumbled. 

"I'll manage it myself," Ezra glared back at the healer. He had been sleeping in fits and starts all day, and still looked horrible, with his face more purple than beige, his eyes just barely visible beneath the bruises. He still shook whenever he exerted himself with such simple tasks as sitting up, was far too thin, but at least he wasn't flinching away at every movement Jackson made anymore. His eyes were still somewhat sensitive to the late evening light, but Nathan had removed the blankets from the windows. The curtains were still kept tightly shut.

Larabee smiled, watching the gambler bridle under the healer's care. It was good to see some fight in him. Standish had been rather passive since he woke up, accepting whatever concoctions Nathan foisted upon him without comment. But, the con man had already refused to take any more laudanum, despite the fact that Nathan almost demanded it of him. 

"You can't manage," Jackson said tiredly. "Look, if I letcha do this on your own, you'd just get soup all over you and then you'd be after me for leavin' ya in stained clothing."

"Put a bib on 'im," Chris said from his seat.

Both men turned to Larabee -- one with a look of alarm, the other with a wide smile.

"That's what we did with Adam when he was little," Chris continued. "He kept cryin' about wantin' to eat like a big boy and we let 'im. Just had to take certain precautions."

"Sure, Ez," Jackson said, turning his smile on the southerner. "A bib...just like a big boy."

"Certainly not!" Ezra said sharply. "I'm not a child!"

"Ya said that already," Chris commented. "I hate ta think yer repeating yourself."

"Look, Ezra," Jackson sighed, setting down the bowl. "Here's your options. Ya let me feed ya. Ya do it yerself and get ta stay in whatever mess you make -- I ain't gonna change yer nightshirt just 'cause ya want to be _stubborn_. Third choice is ya get ta wear a bib and do whatever the hell you want."

Ezra frowned, a barely noticeable expression under his bruised complexion. "If we were to refer to it as a '_ascot'_, perhaps I would choose the third choice."

Chris shook his head as Nathan stepped across the room for a cloth to tie around the gambler's neck. "Ascot then," Jackson said.

The gambler did allow Nathan to hold the bowl, which the healer did patiently and wordlessly, as Ezra slowly managed to feed himself the quickly cooling soup. Truth be told, he did a fine job of keeping the _'ascot'_ clean, managing to spill only a few drops onto the cloth. Ezra smiled triumphantly at this fact. Finally, his arm shaking too badly to allow him to continue, and adding to the spots, Ezra declared that he was full and waved Jackson away.

"Ezra," Nathan sighed, "I need you to finish this up."

"I'm afraid that my constitution won't allow it," Ezra replied. "My stomach already feels somewhat...unsettled."

Nathan nodded, and patted Ezra on the shoulder. After going for so many days without eating, Nathan didn't expect him to eat very much. "Well, we'll try it again later then." He removed the _ascot_ and tossed to the table at the side of the room.

Ezra drew in his breath sharply as Nathan helped to settle him back on the pillows. "Sorry, Ez," Nathan said solemnly.

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson, for your assistance. It was much appreciated."

"Anytime, Ez," Nathan replied. 

"Perhaps, a bath might be forthcoming? And a shave..." Ezra rubbed his whiskered face and repeated, "Definitely, a shave."  
  
"We'll see. Depends on whether you behave yourself." Jackson would prefer to see Ezra's face heal a bit before a shave was attempted, but he had a sinking feeling that this was not going to happen. Ezra would keep at him for it until he relented. Jackson promised himself that he'd be strong this time and not give in to that demand.

Ezra grimaced, then turned to Larabee. "I hope you enjoyed the entertainment. I am afraid the excitement generated by my consumption of consume was rather wanting."

"Just glad to see that you're eatin', Ez," Chris admitted. Then, not letting Ezra have a chance to answer his comment, he said. "You want to tell me about what happened."

Ezra sighed and looked away from the leader. "It's about as dull as the performance you just witnessed."

"I'd like to hear it," Chris said genuinely.

Ezra fixed his gaze on the corner of the room and said. "The five of them, whom you are aware of, approached me in the Redbird and captured me with little difficulty. They bound me...beat me...and imprisoned me until you were able to find me." He turned his gaze back to Larabee. "A short and perfectly unimpressive story."

Chris returned the gaze and said, "Any more to it than that?"

"The details would add little."

"You knew who it was -- who was behind all of it?"

"Randall Vaughn," Ezra answered.

"You know why it happened?"

Ezra tipped his head and replied. "He was seeking retribution for the deaths of his brothers."

Chris sighed. He knew that would be the answer -- he just needed to ensure that his belief was true. "So none of this would'a happened if it weren't for me. It's all because I killed that kid, Aaron."

"If I recall the story correctly, you killed Aaron Vaughn in order to protect a young lady who required assistance. He had already murdered more than one of her profession, and he was in the process of continuing these actions." Ezra was obviously tiring again. He furrowed his brow at his own weariness. "And as for the death of Clement Vaughn, he was killed in self defense. He was aiming at you."

"He was trying to kill Vin an' you too."

Ezra nodded in concession. "Yes, that as well. It seems to me that the deaths of the Vaughn brothers were justified and you have no reason to accept the blame for this incident." 

The gambler sighed tiredly and added. "Everyone feels that there is blame to be taken. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez apologize to me constantly due to my own bad humor as they administer to my medical needs. Mr. Tanner cannot stop blaming himself for his inability to be _omnipresent_ --feeling that he had to be patrolling the area AND in the Redbird at the same time. Buck and JD feel they must be _omniscient_ -- knowing exactly where I was when I was hidden from sight. You, of course, feel that you must be _omnipotent_ -- powerful enough to protect us all. We are an _omnium-gatherum_ by any account."

"Omnium-gatherum?" Chris questioned

Ezra yawned and said, "A miscellaneous collection."

"Bit of a stretch," Nathan put in.

Ezra shrugged. "I was about to state that you were _omnivorous_, Mr. Jackson, but I thought that was going a little too far on a theme, and perhaps the term was more fitting of Mr. Wilmington...he will, indeed, eat **_anything_**." Ezra closed his eyes and shortly after that he drifted off to sleep.

"How long until he's on his feet again?" Chris asked once he was certain that the gambler was sleeping.

"It'll be a few more days," Nathan admitted. "They really knocked the crap outta him. I got the infection that was in those scrapes pretty much under control, but he's still pretty damn sore. I'll keep him here for another couple days, then send 'im to stay in his own room. He ain't sleepin' too good yet, so I'm gonna want to keep an eye on 'im."

****

Part 32:

Larabee left the clinic and descended the stairs and into the darkening evening. A wagon was outside the livery and Vin, Buck and JD were unharnessing the horses.

"Boys," Chris said, looking at the three men. They were completely gray from head to foot -- boots, clothing, hands, faces and hair...all the same neutral shade of gray. The three men looked strangely ghostlike as they took care of the horses. The townspeople looked at them oddly and the gray lawmen remained casual in their actions, gazing back at the people as if there was no reason for the strange looks they were receiving. 

"You just gettin' back?" Chris asked as he approached them.

"Took longer than we reckoned," Buck responded.

JD flicked at the material on his face, it had cracked into a strange cobweb. "Yeah, we had to stop every now and again to let it cure a bit."

"Took a while," Vin put in. His long hair was matted with the stuff, big globs of the gray material hung in amongst the long strands.

Chris smiled grimly and said,"Looks like you got more concrete on the all you than you got in that hole."  
  
"Well," Buck smiled. "We had to do somethin' while we waited." 

The three had left earlier that day, with a wagonload of concrete mix and headed to the Vaughn Ranch. What was supposed to be a quick job, had stretched into a daylong activity.

"Buck started it!" JD tattled. "He shoved me right into the mixing trough!"

"I told you, it weren't me that did it," Buck grumbled. "Vin pushed me into ya."

"Lost my balance," Vin stated.

Chris sighed. "Ya finish it?"

"Yeah, we got it done," Buck said with a nod. "Threw in that ole stove. That filled it pretty good."

"Then we put in concrete -- all the way to the top!" JD exclaimed. "Even leveled it off real nice. If someone builds a new house over that basement, they may not even know the cell was even there."

"Ain't no one gonna be put in that pit again," Vin said seriously. "Never again."

****

Part 33:

Josiah waited beside the kerosene lantern and read aloud from "Midsummer Night's Dream," doing his best to perform the various voices, even though is audience didn't seem to notice the effort. From time to time he would look up to check on the man sleeping in the bed. Ezra was once again clean-shaven -- having demanded it of him when Josiah appeared in the room. The southerner certainly could be stubborn about such things. Ezra had fallen back to sleep immediately after the shave and had been peaceful up until this moment.

Ezra started stirring and Josiah set down the book and waited. The gambler's movements were slight at first, moving his head to one side, raising his hand an inch or two, and sighing.

"S'alright, Ezra," Josiah said softly. "S'okay, now."   
  
"Please," Ezra murmured, turning his head in the other direction. "Alone...so alone..."

Josiah swore to himself and leaned forward. "Ezra, listen to me...listen. You're safe. You're here with us in Nathan's clinic. Do you hear me? You're not alone."

Ezra's movements became sharper. "No...no," he cried and tried to ball himself up again. "No..."

Josiah clamped one hand on Ezra's shoulder and the other arm firmly on his legs, knowing that he'd have to get a good grip on the man -- he'd skitter away otherwise or try to kick out. He felt Ezra pull against him and try to escape, but he held tightly. "Wake up, brother," Josiah said urgently. "Ezra, wake up!"

Ezra continued to writhe, and Josiah felt his grip slipping. The damn slippery southerner would hurt himself if he kept this up. Josiah leaned close to Ezra's ear and shouted, "Ezra!"

Standish's eyes shot open and for a moment there was panic in his bruised visage, but his eyes focused and he saw Josiah face, just inches from him.

"Mr. Sanchez," Ezra said tiredly, his gaze taking in the fact that the preacher was virtually on top of him. "Unhand me."

Josiah released Ezra and watched as the gambler tried to get comfortable. "I hope that I didn't startle you any," Josiah said.

"My word," Ezra replied. "I'm afraid that it was I who startled you. Damn embarrassing." 

"You okay now?" Josiah asked seriously.

"Yes, quite, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra sighed. "Quite fine."

"You don't look so fine," Josiah responded, noting that Ezra was sweating and pale beneath his colorful face.

"I've been better." Realizing that more was demanded, Ezra continued, "I simply had a somewhat unhappy remembrance."  
  
"You want to talk about it?'

"No."

"It might help."  
  
"That's doubtful." Ezra pulled up his blankets and looked back to Josiah. "It's something I must deal with."

"Well, you don't got to do it by yourself. You're not alone, you know," Josiah said, looking back at Ezra.

Ezra sighed and weighed his options. "Yes, Mr. Tanner has been informing me of the same thing." He realized that it would be best if he did speak a word or two on the subject. He drew a deep breath and said, "It was only a dream. I was still there. It was as if I hadn't been removed from that...place. I was alone." He shook his head. "I'm used to being alone so it is somewhat surprising that it should affect me so. I must be getting soft."

Josiah lay his large hand again on Ezra's shoulder and was grateful that the gambler didn't jerk away from him this time. "You have to know that we were always with you in spirit -- that we never stopped looking for you -- that all we wanted was to get you home." The preacher continued, "We just weren't whole without you here. We're all here if you ever need someone to talk to about this."

Ezra looked beyond the preacher, remembering his dream - how vivid the blackness was -- how lonely. Ezra said nothing for several minutes, simply gazing back at Josiah and considering his options. "Perhaps we could talk for a short time..." Ezra said and trailed off.

"For as long as you want," Josiah pledged.

**Part 34:**

Three days had passed since they found Ezra. His bruises and gashes were healing slowly and as long as his arm was immobile, Nathan assured that it would heal properly. Nathan had finally untied the arm from Ezra's torso, on the promise that the gambler would keep it in a sling and not try to move the splinted arm at all. 

"He's doin' pretty good," Nathan said as he sat with Chris in the Redbird. "After all he's been through, he's really in pretty good spirits. I've seen slaves beaten like he was and some of 'em make it through and some of 'em don't."

Chris nodded. "And you think he's gonna be one of those that makes it?"

Nathan explained, "I think a lot of it has to do with attitude. If ya got a strong enough will -- you can do anythin'. And I'd have to say that 'strong willed' sums up Ezra pretty tidily."

"I hear that he's been talkin' with Josiah and Vin quite a bit."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, from what the two of 'em have told me, he had a pretty rough time there. It's good that he's talkin' to someone. I think it will help him a lot. Shows that he's willin' to get better."

A ruckus arose as the stage pulled into town. The coach was ahead of schedule.

"Hey!" JD shouted, leaning into the building. "Look who's here!"

"Well, I'll be a son of a gun," Buck said as he stood, peering out the windows of the saloon.

The men looked in disbelief as the door to the stagecoach was opened and a well-dressed woman stepped out with a rustle of skirts. Maude Standish paused for a moment and then caught sight of JD heading toward her. 

"Hey there, Miz Standish," JD said. He glanced up at the harried coach drivers. The men looked just about ready to drop. The horses were lathered and panting in their traces. The other passengers huddled in the coach, watching the stately woman leave.

"Where is he?" She demanded. Her voice lacked the usual sugar they were familiar with. "Have you found him?"

"Miz Standish, hang on a piece," JD said, holding up his hands.

"Don't you try to deceive me, child. I am an expert at that occupation and will know immediately if you are trying to pass off a prevarication," Maude said, stepping up to him. "Where is my darling boy?"

"Prevari..." JD started, wrinkling his brow.

"Maude," Chris said as he joined them.

The woman turned briskly and stated again. "Where is my child?"

"I thought you were on your way to Paris?" Chris said evenly.  
  
Maude fixed him with a glare that they were all familiar with. "You will answer my question immediately." She said smoothly. "I have asked repeatedly and have not received a sufficient answer."

"Ezra's in Nathan's clinic," Chris answered directly. 

"He's hurt?" Maude reached into her handbag for a handkerchief. "Is he all right? Please tell me that my dear son is all right." Chris would have thought it an act, but he saw true tears in her eyes and she seemed more unkempt that was her nature, paler and trembling. She looked tired. Maude dabbed her eyes and, seeing Nathan, abandoned Chris and JD to speak to the healer. 

"Is he harmed -- in any way? Is my dear boy hurt?" Maude asked Jackson.

Nathan stepped back as the woman approached him. "He's been pretty banged up, but he'll be okay. He's got a thick hide," Jackson said.

"He's stubborn, if that is what you mean to say. I don't believe that _'thick hide'_ is really the right moniker for someone such as my son. His skin is really quite delicate." Maude nodded and continued, "I wish to see him immediately."

"He's asleep right now, ma'am," Nathan replied. "He can do with some sleep."

"He will see his mother," Maude stated. "I abandoned my trip to France and traveled by a horrendous railway then by coach to be at his side. The sheer cost of this venture should be reason enough..."

She was startled when Chris grabbed her by the arm. She glared down at his hand and said, "Is there something you want, Mr. Larabee?"

"Don't you dare start into him with cost of this little trip of yours," Chris said in a low voice.

Maude smiled mildly. "That shouldn't be a concern of yours."

Chris pulled the wrinkled envelope from his pocket and handed it to Maude. She glanced at the address, examined the state of the envelope and then looked back to Chris. "It appears that correspondence meant for my eyes only has been opened and perhaps read by another," she said curtly.

"Thought you should have it before you went to see him," Chris said simply. "Why don't you come and read it in the Redbird."

Maude glanced at the saloon indicated and nodded. "A libation would be appreciated. I would like the opportunity to freshen up as well before I see my boy, if that's possible. " She smiled and her whole demeanor changed as Josiah walked toward her. "Mr. Sanchez, so good to see you again. "

Josiah strode up slowly, a boyish grin on his face. "Miss Maude, a pleasure. Might I escort you somewhere?"

"I've heard that the Redbird Saloon is an enjoyable locality to while away the hours," Maude flirted shamelessly.

"The very place..." Josiah said, offering his arm. He smiled at the others as he moved past them, then he said quietly to Maude, "I had the impression that you were on a ship bound for Europe."

"Merciful heavens," Maude said. "After that telegram you sent me, I immediately sold my ticket -- at a loss, mind you. I hadn't even time to retrieve my steamer trunk and it sailed without me. I had hardly a moment to breathe. I needed to be here as soon as possible. " She leaned against the preacher and asked, "He is all right, isn't he? Tell me my boy is all right."

"He's gonna be fine," Josiah assured as he pushed open the doors to the Redbird Saloon. "I think you'll be quite comfortable here." 

Maude smiled as she entered the clean little saloon with the portrait of Miss Viola and the red finch. "Yes," she said as she gazed around. "It's almost like coming home, isn't it?"

Josiah settled Maude at one of the tables and then sent Inez to her to take any food or drink orders that she might want. The two women smiled familiarly to each other.

Chris strode up to Josiah and said under his breath, "What did you say in that wire?"

Josiah watched the two women chat amicably. "Told her what I thought."

Chris nodded. "And what would that be?"

"That Ezra was missing. That I thought she should be here. That her boy loved her and needed her. That we feared for his life. Thought he might be dead."

"Thought I said to '_keep it positive'_."

Josiah nodded toward the table. "Got positive results."

"I talked to the coach drivers," Chris said. "They said that Maude almost drove 'em crazy. Paid 'em a fair piece to get an early start. Made 'em leave one of their fares at the station 'cause he wasn't there yet. Kept at the drivers the whole way."

"Never can quite figure out these Standishes," Josiah said with a smile. "They'll surprise you at every turn."

The two men watched as Inez left the table and Maude opened the letter.

****

Part 35:

Ezra slept, luxuriating in the softness. Certainly, it didn't match the comfort of his own feather bed, but he had been promised that he would be allowed to return to it tomorrow. For the time being, the mattress on the bed in Nathan's clinic was the softest thing he had ever known.

He stirred and moved his head, aware of the light streaming in through the window. The curtains had been opened this morning as his eyes became accustomed to the increasing brightness. He tried to move his left arm and was reminded again -- with a gasp --that it was broken. He sighed in frustration. It had only just mended well enough to allow him to use the arm again, and now he was one again encumbered by a splint. Certainly Nathan would force him to wear it even longer this time...not let him get away with doing without the sling.

He turned, trying to move onto his side, but he was still so stiff. He groaned as he abandoned the attempt to continue to lay on his back in the incredibly soft bed. 

Something stirred in the room, he listened carefully, trying to ascertain who it was. He used his well-attuned senses as he continued to close his eyes against the light in the room. There was a crinkling sound of petticoats...the sweet smell of perfume. A woman...the scent familiar.

"Mother?" he said softly and turned his head toward the presence. It couldn't be...he must be dreaming. He opened his eyes slowly and was rewarded with the sight of the woman in question, sitting stiffly beside the bed. "Mother? Why are you here?" he asked, and studied her face. She looked distraught over something. "Has something happened?"   
  
The woman furrowed her brow. "Has something happened? Dear boy, what sort of question is that?"

"A legitimate inquiry..." Ezra replied.

Maude frowned and said, "You disappear for nearly a week, are bound and held captive, nearly beaten to death..."

"Mother, I wasn't nearly beaten to death," Ezra said with a sigh.

Maude actually sounded as if she choked back a sob. "Well, it looks that way to me. My Lord, look at you. Your beautiful face...your arm.." 

When she had entered the room an hour earlier, she had nodded appreciatively to Nathan and asked to be left alone with her convalescing son. Once the healer departed, she had sat in that chair and cried. Her son... her darling boy...his face seemed to be one large bruise, various shades of black, blue, purple and yellow. Good Lord, she had thought, how could they hurt him so? His left arm was splinted, his chest was strapped, and he was so terribly bruised. He was so thin and pale. She had noticed that one of his ears had a chunk taken out of it... small but noticeable when she leaned close to him -- long healed now. When did that happen? she had thought.

Ezra had moved uncomfortably in his sleep -- quiet moans escaping him. She had dried her tears and waited when his movements had increased -- signifying that he was waking. And now, here he was, awake and confounded. He didn't seem to realize why she was here.

"Darling, you are flat on your back and can hardly move. Do you think I haven't heard the sounds you've been making? You are in a sorry state. "

Realizing his inappropriate posture, Ezra struggled to get his good hand under him and leverage himself into a sitting position. "Please forgive my impropriety," he said through gritted teeth. "A gentleman should at least sit up in the presence of a lady -- such as you are."

"Stupid, foolish boy," Maude said, leaning forward to help her son, maneuvering the pillows behind him and settling him back against the headboard. It was frustrating how difficult this was. She should at least be able to help her own son sit up.

Once he was able to catch his breath, he looked again at her face and saw the paleness of her complexion, the worry etched there, the redness of her eyes. Was that because of him? "I'm fine, Mother. Truly."

"That is a statement of dubious validity if I have ever heard one," Maude said sharply. 

He grinned and drawled, "It looks worse than it is, Mother. I'm feeling much better." He shifted, trying to get comfortable in his new position and then said. "You should be halfway across the Atlantic by now. Did the ship fail to leave port? Was there a problem?"

Maude stood suddenly, her face darkened. "The ship? The ship fail to leave port? A problem? Dear Lord, son, did you think I wouldn't come? Your Mr. Sanchez sent me a most urgent telegram. How could I ignore it and not come immediately to this inconvenient little town of yours?"

Ezra sighed. "I'm very sorry, Mother. I'd no intention of diverting your sojourn from the City of Light. It must have been a difficult choice, all in all." He smiled mildly. "Paris would be lovely this time of year."

Maude turned her back to the bed and moved slowly to the window, afraid of the words her son had just used. A difficult choice...how could he think that... why would he think that? Of course, she had made similar choices in the past...choices she sometimes dreaded now.

"Yes," she said, "Paris would be lovely."

"I shall indeed go someday," Ezra said wistfully, plucking at the sheets. 

She turned back to face her bruised child. His handsome face was so horribly altered. He looked so hurt, so pained. "Then you'll go with me as I'd originally planned. It'll be simple. We will take the next train eastward."

"Mother..." Ezra sighed and shook his head. "I'm hardly fit for travel."

"Then I shall wait. We'll go when you're able."

"Mother, I..." Ezra continued to pull at the sheets.

"There'll be no questioning this, Ezra." She bustled back to the bed. "Think of it, darling. It'll be just like old times. We're marvelous together. There has never been a more capable team."

"I've found a rather capable team here," Ezra said softly.

"But Ezra, is it enough? You know that the longer you stay in one place, the worse your chances are of running an appreciable con. They will learn your tells." She frowned and said, "Your chances at making a decent gain will be negligible."

Ezra considered this for a moment and then responded. "There's more than one type of gain, Mother."

"But remember how well we work together, Ezra."

"What I remember, Mother..." Ezra paused. "Mother, what I remember more than anything is the times that you left me alone."

Maude drew her mouth to a thin line. "I did the best I could for you," she said softly. "I couldn't very well tote you along wherever I went. You were just a child, Ezra. It would never have worked. Dear boy, I tried to provide the very best for you. To allow you to have a home that I couldn't provide."

"There was never a home, Mother," Ezra gestured out the window. "This is the closest thing I've ever had to a home."  
  
Maude shook her head. "This isn't a home, Ezra. It's beneath you. You deserve so much more. It's here that you are so abused. Why didn't you tell me that you'd been so badly wounded a month ago."

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Was I? Perhaps it slipped my mind."

"Don't get smart with me, young man. You write to me every week. Why didn't you tell me."  
  
"I didn't want to alarm you unnecessarily." Besides, Ezra thought, there had been times in the past when similar messages had gone unheeded. He saw no need to repeat such mistakes. Ezra cocked his head at her. "And who exactly informed you of this...of my unfortunate circumstance of over a month ago?"

"Mr. Sanchez," Maude replied. "We had a nice little talk before I came up here."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Mr. Sanchez does tend to exaggerate certain things."

"No," Maude responded. "I believe it is you that downplays things. If I'd known such things were going on, I would've insisted you leave here long ago. Ezra, dearest, you shall come with me to Paris."

"I can't, Mother," Ezra said with resignation. "Not at this time. My funds are tied up at present and I'll doubtfully have any liquid capital to work with for some time." A realization came to him. "I suspect that you've incurred a loss in coming here. Were you able to sell your ticket? Then, of course the cost of the train trip and the coach...did you need to bribe anyone to ensure a quick passage? I'll remedy this when I'm able. We must, of course, keep our books balanced."

"Ezra P. Standish!" Maude cried, her voice trembling. "Have you forgotten EVERYTHING I've taught you?" Her face was red with sudden rage. "Never! Never offer money unless you expect it to be taken!" She reached into her pocketbook and retrieved several bills. "Never offer money, PERIOD! Good Lord, child, what were you doing all those years that I trained you? Were you EVER listening?"

She flung the bills onto the bed and turned quickly, not meeting the startled expression on her son's battered face.

****

Part 36:

Maude stormed into the Redbird Saloon, her skirts billowing about her like a thunderhead. She came to a sudden stop in the doorway and composed herself before she searched out Chris Larabee.

She closed the distance between them and glared at the man. "I need to speak with you."

"Sit down, Maude," Chris said. "I 'spect I have a word or two for you."

"My son..." she began as she sat. She settled her skirts and started again. "My son is in a wretched state. Have you seen him? He is literally bruised from head to foot and in considerable pain."  
  
Chris sighed. "He's feelin' a might better lately."

"Is that meant to console me?" Maude asked incredulously. "What you're saying is that his state was worse before this? Is that meant to make me feel better?"

Chris shook his head. He had as much luck talking to Maude as with her son. "I'm just meanin' to say that he's back with us and will be improving. We got 'im back all safe and sound now."

"Hardly either safe or sound. '_Sound'_ implies that he would be in perfect health. Good Lord, he's as thin as a rail and weak as a babe. He can hardly move. His beautiful face is so battered -- will it ever return to normal? His arm... what if his arm is permanently damaged? Mr. Sanchez tells me this is the second time in little more than a month that the same arm has been broken," Maude said bitterly. "Don't tell me that you expect nothing to come of this. My boy's hands are his bread and butter. If anything is to happen to his dexterity..." 

Chris leaned away from the woman, she was a formidable force when agitated. "Nate says that it should be alright. He'll keep Ezra splinted up as long as he can, but you know how Ez can be..." Chris said, trying to lighten the woman's mood. "He never seems to know what's good for 'im with things like that."

"Don't try that tone with me. This is not something to take lightly. I had to hear from Mr. Sanchez that own my flesh-and-blood nearly died last month in the pursuit of this regrettable career in law."

Chris sighed inwardly. Why did Josiah have to tell her about that? Ezra had nearly died in Kotter's Ridge while trying to stop Dean Hunger and his men from killing a boy. The outcome of the incident was that Hunger lost four of his men, Hunger and his associate Cummings were imprisoned, the kid was safe and Ezra was hurt.

"He was tryin' to help a kid in trouble," Chris explained. "Tryin' to do the right thing."

"It was due to his current occupation. He wouldn't have been in that locality if he wasn't _'investigating'_ the sound of gunfire. He wouldn't have been placed in such a position if it weren't for this deplorable dollar-a-day profession that you have forced him into."

"Maude, you should know better than anyone that there ain't no _'forcing'_ Ezra to do anythin'. The reason he was injured was because he thought someone was in trouble and did what he could to help. Maybe Ez would'a done it even if he weren't workin' for the law."

"His name is _Ez-ra_," Maude stated. "The name is only two syllables long so it shouldn't be a struggle. It comes from _The Bible_ -- perhaps you've heard of the book. I wish you would show him the respect of pronouncing his name correctly."

"Maude," Chris began.

"He wouldn't have entered a gunfight if it weren't for this ridiculous occupation. He knows better. He knows to look out for _'number one'_ because if he doesn't, who will?"

"He has us to look out for him."

"Well, you failed that rather miserably." Maude sat back and crossed her arms. "Safe... did you use the word _'safe' _a moment ago -- _safe and sound_?" Maude said mockingly, her voice rising. "He was taken from this very business. He was standing right here... right here beside this very table," She pointed to the wooden floor of the Redbird. ".... his own saloon... safe! How are you to assure me that such a thing won't happen again?"

"Maude," Chris said quietly, trying to calm her. The other patrons of the saloon had begun looking at them in surprise. "He's back now... he's okay."

"And why was he imprisoned? Why was he so brutally attacked and removed from the safety of his own business?" Maude said, her voice suddenly becoming quiet and calm. 

Chris said nothing for a moment, watching Maude's face, which had become impassive. It was that same poker face that he was familiar with -- but had never become used to. 

"Because of me," Chris replied, knowing that Maude was already aware of the reason. "Because a man wanted revenge against me."

Maude stood regally. "Ezra will come with me to Paris as soon as he is able to travel."

"He's a grown man, Maude..." Chris said with a sigh. "He gets to make his own decisions."

"He is my child. You have no idea what it's like Mr. Larabee...what it's like to have a child. You don't know the time and effort I have gone through to give him the best life possible. You don't understand what it's like to worry about him...to want to keep him safe from harm...." She stopped suddenly, noting something in Chris' expression. 

"You have a child, Mr. Larabee?" Maude inquired.

Chris nodded sharply. "I had a boy."

Maude paused, noting the use of past tense. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "Let me offer my condolences at your loss. My boy neglected to inform me."  
  
"Probably realized I didn't want folks to know," Chris said. He found he could not look at Maude. 

"Then you'll understand what I'm saying," Maude continued. "If you could find a way to have kept your boy safe..._safe and sound_...wouldn't you do anything to do so? Anything?"

Chris pursed his lips and stared at a flaw on the table. "I'd do anything," he agreed.

Maude just nodded. "This is a fine establishment," she said as she walked away. "My son should be proud of what he's done here."

__

**Part 37:**

"He's not gonna go," Buck said emphatically. "He ain't goin'. He just ain't goin'."

Nathan shrugged. "He might," he said. "Think about what's happened to him lately. I mean, I'd want to get away if I was him."

"I know that he's always had a fond spot in his heart for France," Josiah said solemnly. "He has spoken to me about wanting to visit the _Lourve_, to see the _Champs Élysées, _the_ Arc de Triomphe_."

"Gosh," JD said, pushing back his bowler. "I'd like to see those places too. Don't know what they are, but I'd still like to see 'em. I bet it's mighty fine."

"I suspect it is," Josiah agreed.

"I wouldn't blame him for goin'," Nathan concluded.

"He ain't goin'!" Buck said again and looked back to Chris. "You know it, Chris."

Chris hadn't said much since Maude had spoken with him yesterday. The horrible weight had come to rest on him. Ezra would never have been taken from this place if it weren't for Larabee's actions. Never would have been held with Vin in the first place. He never would have gotten shot up at Kotter's Ridge if Chris hadn't snagged him into this iffy life of law enforcement. 

Could he honestly try to fight Maude's intentions? Could he honestly try to convince Ezra to stay? Hell, if he had been through the same, Chris figured he might leave this area too -- want to get as far away from Four Corners as possible. He wished to hell that he could do something about it, because...damn it... he wanted Standish to stay.

He had grown used to the suave con artist. This past week, when Ezra was missing, only drove the point in further. Chris didn't want to see Ezra go. He missed Standish when he was gone. Four Corners just wouldn't be the same without him. But how in hell could Larabee even begin to ask Ezra to stay... after everything that had happened. 

"Damn it!" Larabee heard Nathan's uncustomary swearing and watched the healer jump to his feet and run to the door. 

Vin had Ezra by the arm and the two of them were walking down the boardwalk. The duo had just made it past the doorway of the saloon. Ezra had his favorite red jacket on, pulled over one arm and was walking gingerly with Vin's assistance. When Nathan burst through the doors, the others saw the two wince.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Nathan asked, impeding their further progress.

"Walking, I would say," Ezra replied to Nathan's inquiry. "Not exactly a promenade..."

"I told you to stay put!" Nathan cried.

"Ya said he could go back to his room today and it's well past noon," Vin reminded, carefully keeping Ezra steady. "We figgured he's been waitin' long enough. I was just givin' 'im a hand."

"He goes back to his room when I say so!" Nathan commanded. Ezra had improved considerably. He slept much better now, his sleep uninterrupted by nightmares and he was up to eating a light diet. Jackson had planned to release Ezra from custody later that day, after another going over while he still had the man under his control in the clinic. Now that the gambler was on the loose, there would be no chance of pinning him down again. "Hell, the two of you are headin' right past. Not even comin' in. His room is upstairs! What happened? You seen me in here and attempted to escape?"

Ezra looked to Vin with a puzzled expression, eyebrows raised. Vin smiled back. "Escape?" Ezra questioned. "Now, why would I do such a thing."

"We was just gonna check on Chaucer is all," Vin explained. "Funny, Ez got the idea to check on 'im jus' as we come to the door here." Vin grinned and Ezra glared at him.

"Inside!" Nathan demanded, swinging the door wide and gesturing. Ezra looked exasperated and Vin steered him back through the doorway to their usual table. By the time he reached his chair, Ezra could hardly hold his own weight and collapsed somewhat gratefully.   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said as he settled himself, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on his still bruised body. He tugged at the sling around his neck. 

"No prob, pard," Vin replied, finding his seat.

"I told you that I'd have Josiah come get you!" Nathan admonished. "I don't want you wanderin' around on your own. Las' thing I need is for you to fall."

Ezra looked surprised. "But I wasn't alone. I had the estimable Mr. Tanner with me." He tipped his hat to the tracker.

"I'll deal with you later," Nathan said darkly and Tanner cringed.

Ezra cocked his head at Vin and then pointed to the tracker's head. "Mr. Tanner, you have something in your hair," he drawled.

Vin felt where Ezra had pointed and pulled out a gray clod. "Oh, yeah. I keep finding those," he said as he crumbled the material onto the table and then swept it to the floor, drawing a frown from the proprietor.

Ezra sighed and then looked back to Jackson. "I didn't feel the need to be carried through the streets and I did miss my feather bed. I've come to the conclusion that I've been disillusioned and disoriented. Your bed is, indeed, as hard as rock. I felt that the best medicine for me was my own comfortable quarters. Besides, I believe that you're trying to poison me."

Nathan rested his head in his hands. "I don't know why I try," he murmured.

The bartender appeared at the table with a mug of tea. Ezra glared at it for a moment. "Mr. Rutledge, I believe I have had my fill of teas. Mr. Jackson has been experimenting on me with his various blends and I've had all I can stomach."

"It's jasmine tea," Joe explained, "from China. Mrs. Potter brung it by. Said she had it sent in special from 'Frisco."

Ezra picked up the mug and sipped at it experimentally and then nodded appreciatively to the bartender who left the table. "I should speak to Mrs. Potter regarding her importer." He looked to Nathan and said, "Perhaps you should as well."

JD watched the interplay, nervously fingering his mug. Why in the hell didn't anyone ask the question? He certainly wanted to know the answer. "So," JD finally gave in. "Ya leavin'?"

Ezra, sipped at his tea again. After a moment he looked up at JD and then the others. "Who's leaving?"

"You," JD responded. "Your ma says you're goin' with her to Paris."

Ezra smiled. "Where is the dear?"

"At the hotel," Josiah replied. "Said she'd be back here tonight to start gettin' your stuff packed up. Said she'd facilitate the sale of the Redbird."  
  
"Sale?" Ezra started to stand, but immediately gave up on that activity. "Sale? She cannot." There was a note of panic in his usually calm voice. His face dropped and he looked like a child who had just lost his favorite toy. "I hold the title this time. She can't buy it out from under me!" 

"She's tryin to sell it FOR you!" Buck exclaimed. ''Said she'd start askin' around to see if anyone was interested in it. I hear tell she's got a big fish on the line. Man ain't even seen the place yet and yer ma has him convinced that Redbird is a gold mine."

"She said she can get a fine price for it," Josiah continued. "The man in St. Louis is willin' to pay more than double what we've have put into it so far. She said that our investments should prove quite fruitful."

Ezra opened his mouth, but couldn't find words. "But..." he looked amongst them. "But I had no intention..." he sighed and sat back. "Double?" 

Josiah nodded. "Said we'd all get a 100% return on our investment."

"Double..." Ezra said thoughtfully.

"Ya ain't gonna sell, are ya, Ez?" Vin said. This was the first he had heard about this. "You all cain't think that's a good idea. I mean, it's YOUR place. It's YOUR saloon."

"It's his decision of course," Josiah said, gesturing to Ezra. "Ezra, if you are planning to accompany your mother to Paris, it may be a wise decision. Plus, there is the profit to consider." He looked seriously at Standish, knowing how the gambler felt about money. "You may not get this sort of offer again."

"I have no intention of accompanying her," Ezra explained. He was somewhat startled by the sighs of relief that he heard around the table. "And I'm afraid that I must inform you, I don't wish to sell the saloon at this time either. Your investments must remain where they are. I am sorry to disappoint..."

"Great!" JD crowed happily as Josiah gave Ezra a hearty clap on the shoulder that almost collapsed him.

"Hot Damn!" Buck shouted. "Drinks are on the house!"

A hearty cheer went up from the patrons of the Redbird, drawing a fearful look from Ezra. "Mr. Wilmington!" he hissed, counting the people currently within the saloon. Good Lord, this would be expensive. The customers started rushing the table, shaking his hand, or nodding appreciatively from their corners. 

"I think the profits can suffer a bit, just for once," Chris said, leaning toward Standish.

Ezra regarded the gunslinger for a moment and then glanced about at the others at his table. All of them looked so content, so happy. It seemed odd that they would accept his refusal to sell. They had invested in the establishment in order to reap a gain, hadn't they? But, of course, there was more than one type of gain.

Finally, Ezra shook his head and said, "No, no, no." With some effort, he managed to lean forward and pull a fold of bills from his boot. "The Redbird is to remain solvent. This is on me." He smiled at the others at his table, revealing the wad of money to them.

"Where'd ya get that?" Vin asked, remembering that the con man had very little money these days.

"From my mother," Ezra said with a quirk of a smile. "There was $400 that she felt the need to return. She is a good mother you know," he said this almost to himself. "She has always done her best for me -- taught me everything she knows -- given me opportunities that she never had. I know she wishes me well and feels that this little excursion to Paris might have kept me from harm, safe at my mother's bosom, so to say." He stopped speaking suddenly and a look of horror flitted across his face. "Now that's a disturbing image," he said, shaking the thought from his mind.

The men at the table laughed and Ezra smiled with them. Still, his smile turned somewhat sad, remembering the reason the money was given to her in the first place.

Drinks were distributed throughout the saloon...and Ezra watched in consternation as a few more interlopers slipped in when they heard the ruckus. Ezra mentally calculated the cost and sighed. He couldn't do this too often.

****

Part 38:

"Maude," Chris met the woman as she exited the hotel.

"Mr. Larabee," Maude strode up to him. "I believe there is a legal entanglement that must be rectified. I understand that the only reason my son is working as a lawman in this town is to earn a pardon for a crime he most definitely did not commit." She held her handbag tightly. 

"I need to talk to you a bit," Larabee said. 

"No time for that, Mr. Larabee," Maude said, trying to move past him. "I must see to easing my Ezra out of this embroilment. Is there a way to speak to this Judge Travis immediately? Has an amount been set to free my boy of this charge? Would the judge open to accepting a contribution of some sort in order to change the sentence?"

"Maude..."

"And then I will need to meet with my son. He has told me that he needs to speak to me on a most important matter -- very insistent about it. He said that he wanted to talk to me before I purchased his ticket on the ship. He probably wants to ensure that I place him in First Class." She shook her head. "Such a difficult boy."   
  
"Look, you had your chance to speak your mind to me. Now it's my turn."

Maude smiled slyly at him and asked, "And what do you feel the need to say?"  
  
"I need you to tell Ezra what you told me."

"What exactly is it that you wish I tell him? That I think his current occupation is unhealthy? Ludicrous might be a better terminology? That I mean to bring him to Paris?"  
  
"Tell him what you said about the Redbird. He's mighty proud of it."

Maude sniffed. "It's too small and could be lighter, but it has potential. His improvements are quite fine, I do attest to that."

"Tell him that part at least. Tell him that you're proud of 'im, Maude."

"Proud? For the decisions he's made? For misusing his God-given talents? For frittering away his life in this dusty town? For ignoring every opportunity I have given him? For offering money? For being nearly penniless? For risking his life for nothing?"

"It's not nothing, Maude. He's done a lot of good here." Chris met her gaze and said, "Are you telling me that his life was never in danger while the two of you were runnin' cons?"

"That's different, Mr. Larabee. There was money at stake."

Chris shook his head woefully. "And just how much money is his life worth?"

Maude opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Larabee, but it seems that we will never see eye to eye on this subject. You just don't have the appreciation that Ezra and I have for such matters."

"He's a good man, Maude. He's a hell of a fine lawman and has done a lot for this town"

"Mr. Larabee, he was once one of the finest con artists this side of the Mississippi. But he has fallen out of practice. It's deplorable to watch. He's had so much more opportunity than I, and yet he squanders it."

"Hell," Chris interrupted, angrily. "Can't ya find one thing worthwhile to say about him?"

Maude smiled. "We are not people who need to exchange such sentiments. Ezra knows what I expect of him."

"Can ya at least tell him that you love him?"

Maude touched her chest lightly. "But, Mr. Larabee, he knows that."

Chris leaned against the wall and sighed. "If I had the chance to tell my son one thing...just one thing... I'd tell Adam that I loved him. I don't think I said it enough to him. I'd do anything to tell him that just one more time."

****

Part 39:

Mother and son walked slowly to the awaiting coach. Maude watched her son's injured face as they made their way to the vehicle. The drivers looked down with trepidation.

"You should follow your mother's advice and purchase the dry goods store," Maude said as they walked arm in arm.

"Yes, Mother," Ezra replied.

"It would be an excellent investment. You could double the size of The Redbird, and thus increase the possible number of sales every night."  
  
"Good idea, Mother."

"And the large windows in that establishment would go far in illuminating the interior."

"Excellent observation, Mother."

"It would save on kerosene and candles."

"Of course, Mother."

"I'm certain the old crone who owns the store could be easily plied. She certainly will sell for almost nothing in order to get out of the business and retire."

"If you say so, Mother."

"Are you listening to me?"  
  
"Always, Mother." He turned to her and nodded. 

Maude looked dubious and then sighed. "But you won't come with me?" 

"I'm sorry, Mother dear, but I must remain. I'm needed here."

Maude harrumphed. "I'm sure that a replacement could be found for your position as lawman."

"You'd be surprised, Mother. Not everyone wishes to be associated with these men. They've been known to be somewhat menacing." 

"And you choose to remain with them?"

"Their menace can be diverted. One only needs to apply one's talents correctly."

"Paris, Ezra..." Maude enticed.

Ezra smiled, revealing his gold tooth. "Four Corners is enough for me at this moment. I believe I have found a home of sorts here. I should stay for a while yet and see what comes of it." 

"It isn't much, Ezra," Maude said sadly. "You could have so much more."

"It's enough," Ezra ensured. "Truly, Mother, it is more than I had ever hoped for."

Maude studied her son. She thought she knew everything about him. How could he still surprise her?

They had reached the vehicle by this time. "I wish you a safe journey, Mother. And please, for goodness sake, don't harass the drivers extensively. They are capable of _'putting you out'_ if you become impossible to stand."

"You should learn to respect your mother," Maude said. She made a quick appraisal of the other passengers in the stage, choosing her marks and deciding upon a strategy. Ezra swung open the door and offered his arm. She lightly lay her hand on the offered arm and put no weight on him as she stepped into the coach.

"Of course, Mother," Ezra responded and slammed the door behind her. "I wish you well and hope your trip is highly successful."

Maude looked back to her son. His face was slowly returning to its normal shade and he seemed to be standing without much difficulty. His wrists were no longer bandaged, but displayed the healing white scars left by the ropes. He was still entirely too thin. He had always been a light eater and no amount of pestering could make him change his ways. It would be some time before either his arm or ribcage would be released from their bindings, but Mr. Jackson had assured her that he would be perfectly all right.

She stared at his smiling face and his sharp green eyes -- her son -- her darling boy. She wondered what it would be like to never gaze upon him again. She leaned out the window of the stage and clasped her hands around his neck, pulling the young man toward her and embracing him fiercely.

"Don't you EVER do that to me again!" she growled into his ear.

Ezra tried to step back but she continued to hold him tightly. "Mother!" He said in alarm, glancing out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone was watching. "...appearances..."

"Never, Ezra!" She scolded. "Never again!"  
  
"Of course, Mother," Ezra said, still trying to get away, but finding he was held even tighter.

"I'm proud of you, son," she whispered, so softly that Ezra wasn't even sure he had heard. "I can't begin to tell you how much..." she kissed him suddenly and released him. Ezra, not ready, took two startled steps backward to regain his balance.

"Mother?" Ezra touched his cheek with his free hand.

The coach drivers, seeing that the gambler had stepped back, started to put the coach in motion. "Ezra!" Maude called out sharply as the horses picked up speed. There had been a promised bonus if the trip was completed quickly. "I love you, dear child."

Ezra stood in stunned disbelief as the carriage disappeared in a cloud of dust, hurtling back toward Ridge City. He couldn't quite move. It wasn't until the coach was long gone that he finally said quietly, "I love you too, Mother."

****

Part 40:

Chris and the others watched the coach's departure from their table inside the Redbird. Several long minutes had already passed.

"He still standin' there?" Buck asked, his back to the window.

"Yup," Vin replied.

"Think we should go out and see if he's okay?"

"Nope." Vin nodded. "See, he's comin' now."

The six men watched as Ezra turned and slowly entered the saloon. He smiled when he saw them and headed to their table. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said as he sat.

"Did your ma get off okay? JD asked.

"Indeed," Ezra replied.   
  
"Anything wrong?" Josiah asked, noting the contemplative look on Ezra's face.

"No, not at all. She simply surprised me." He shrugged. 

Chris raised an eyebrow, wondering if he knew what had been said. "Good to see you gettin' around better." 

"Why thank you, Mr. Larabee," Ezra replied. "But, if you think that this means I shall be riding patrol shortly, you're mistaken."  
  
"We'll see," Chris responded. He truly was glad to see Ezra doing so well.

"I feel the need for a certain amount of recuperation and relaxation," Ezra smiled when Joe brought him a mug. "Thank you, sir," he said and then turned the others. "You really should try this jasmine tea. It is quite fine."

"Yeah, and what's the price?" Buck asked.

"Quite affordable. You _will_ get your regular discount," Ezra reminded as he sipped at the mug.

Yes, Chris thought, it was good to have him back. He remembered the letter he had read, and the comment that Ezra had made in regard to the people he worked with..._ 'the finest gentlemen I have ever had the pleasure to know.' _Goes double for me, Chris thought.

"So, Ezra," Chris started.

"Mr. Larabee?" Ezra leaned back in his chair.

"It's been botherin' me and maybe you know the answer." Larabee nodded to the portrait of Viola on the wall. "Is that bird a pet that's about to escape or is a wild thing that that girl's managed to catch?"

Ezra turned his head to the painting. "You are wrong on both accounts, Mr. Larabee." He brought his good arm to lay on the table and smiled. "You see, the artist was well schooled in the art of symbolism. Everything in a painting such as this has a meaning. If the bird were meant to be a tame thing, you'd see a cage in the corner, a perch perhaps. If it were a wild creature, coaxed inside, you'd see evidence of that. There'd be seed on the sill, a net on the table, or perhaps a thin chain -- half hidden in the girl's hand."

He turned back to face Larabee and the others. "The bird is neither tame nor wild, but perhaps some combination of the two. It comes and goes as it pleases, and is allowed to do so." He turned back to the painting and pointed. "As you see, there are cobwebs in the corner of that window. It's been open for some time."

"Ah, I see," Larabee said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin and examining the picture. "It's free to go, and yet it stays. Why's that?"

"Because it wishes to. It would leave if it felt the need, but it stays just the same."

"Why d'ya think that is?" JD asked.

Ezra shrugged. "Perhaps because it is happy to do so." He squinted at the little red bird. "It does look rather content, for a bird, that is." 

The other six men still gazed at the painted image and the conversation came to a halt. 

In the quiet, Ezra watched his friends. They all seemed so comfortable, as if they truly enjoyed spending time here -- in his saloon. It was as he had always hoped -- had always dreamed. He turned his gaze out over the saloon and watched as another group of patrons -- townspeople -- entered the saloon. The business was crowded, more so than ever before. Word must have gotten out that there was the possibility (however slight) of free drinks if you happened to be in the Redbird at the right time. Ezra would have to remember that. If you offer free drinks every so often -- business increases exponentially. 

It was really going rather well. How could he leave?

Chris turned to face the gambler, who was looking out across the saloon. The establishment bustled with activity. Chris grinned, to see that content look on his friend's face, as content as the little redbird in Viola's painting.

****

THE END - Completed 11/06/00

__

Okay, there you go. I'd love to hear anything you have to say about Redbird…please leave a review and let me know what you thought.

Just for the record…I'm not really sure The Redbird will be a permanent fixture in my stories… I kinda like the idea of Ezra being less tired down…but there ya go…I started something and had to finish it. Thanks for reading!


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